Desert Heated Tragedies
by psycho chibbi
Summary: While escorting a shipment of supplies across the Sahara, Milliardo finds Quatre stowing away in the cargo hold. Things go from bad to worse when something goes wrong with the plane. Violence language and maybe even 6x4? COMPLETE
1. Stowaway

Desert Heated Tragedies

by: a psycho chibbi named Wendy

Disclaimer: Characters from GW aren't mine.

_I wish they were, but if they were mine you'd be watching this story play out on TV instead of reading it on here, so anywho..._

Warnings: Violence, Abuse of a prisoner, Adult language, Adult situations, and all that other good angsty stuffI usually write.

Parings: Nothing for right now, but do expect some hints of 6+4+6later on.

Hey peoples! This is a fic I've been tinkering with for a while, and one of the reasons I haven't updated my other fics for a while..

I hope ya like!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

From his seat in the supply plane that he had boarded, Milliardo Peacecraft, once the infamous Lightning Count Zechs Merquise, watched as the scenery suddenly turned into a vast desert. Frowning deeply, Milliardo stood from his seat and made his way to the cockpit. Once he reached where the pilots were seated he noticed that something was off. "Why have we changed course? We're supposed to deliver these supplies to the White Fang post at the Tangier base in Morocco" he stated as he looked at the gps screen amongst the other controls the pilots were going over.

The co-pilot looked over his shoulder at the White Fang leader for a moment before returning to hastily checking the various gauges. "We know that sir, but for some reason we're running out of fuel much faster than originally anticipated.. We have to make a landing in Timbuktu in order to refuel.." he explained as he tried to use the radio in order to contact the Timbuktu base.

While his co pilot was trying to get in contact with the airport, the pilot was frowning as he gritted his teeth. "I don't understand... The tanks should have been full... We would have easily reached Tangier... Unless the gauges are malfunctioning..." he mumbled as he continued to figure out what the correct course of action should be.

Milliardo nodded and looked over the wide expanse of desert sand. "Very well, do what you can. I'll attempt to contact the Tangier base and inform them of our situation." Not wasting any time, Milliardo quickly moved back to the passenger section of the cargo plane and headed for the communications console. Just as he was about to activate the secure transmission lines that his bases used the sound of the cargo hatch opening and hurried foot steps alerted him. Turning, he watched as one of the guards came running up to him and saluted hastily.

"Mr. Peacecraft, sir! We have found a stowaway hiding amongst the cargo! He has already killed one of the guards trying to escape, but the other two were able to capture him!" the obviously panicked guard stated in a shaking tone. "We believe he may be a saboteur planted by the rebels."

Growling in annoyance, the blonde man forgot about contacting Tangier and crossed his arms over his chest. "He also might have been the one to sabotage the fuel gauges... Bring him here, Benson. I'll deal with the matter." he ordered firmly, looking forward to punishing the cause of their dilemma.

The guard saluted once more and ran off to the cargo hold in order to bring forth the prisoner.

As Milliardo waited his mind began to ponder punishment for their captive. _:Maybe toss him out the hatch and let him fight his way through the desert... after we interrogate him for info on what he did to the plane first...:_ His lips twitched into a smirk at the idea and he filed it away for future use. When the hatch to the cargo hold hissed open once more he looked to see the guard named Benson from before walking out, his side arm drawn as he stepped aside to let the other two guards escort their captive into the passenger area.

The first thing that Milliardo noticed was the light blonde hair that crowned the bowed head. It was very similar to his own hair color, but he didn't ponder it long as the stowaway was brought before him. Pale hands were bound tightly with shackles, and blood spattered the gray mechanic's jumpsuit that the young boy was wearing as the guards held on tightly to his arms. _:This kid can't be more than 16 years old... Although the war is forcing children to fight... And I was about his age when I joined Oz..:_ he thought privately. "Well.. Lets see who we have here..." Reaching out his gloved hand he tilted up the boy's head only to be caught by a pair of bright aqua eyes. They were expressive and swirling with so many emotions and colors that Milliardo nearly forgot that he was dealing with a prisoner. It was then that the pale delicate face triggered a memory. "I know you... You're gundam pilot zero-four ... Quatre Winner." he said as he quirked an eyebrow in intrigue.

The blonde boy smirk at his captor and snorted slightly. "Nice to know my reputation proceeds me.." he said as he jerked his face away from the older soldier's touch only to be reprimanded by the guards that held him. A hit to the back of the head with the butt of a gun made him grunt in pain and his knees gave out from under him. Now on his knees before the white fang leader Quatre could feel the familiar sensation of the barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of his head.

Amused by the way defiance still shimmered in the aqua depths as the boy glared at him, Milliardo sat on his heels to look the rebel pilot directly in the eyes. "Hm.. So much for the renowned Winner family pacifist beliefs... What's a spoiled rich kid like you doing playing soldier?" he asked, which caused the guards to laugh.

Growling slightly, Quatre stared back into those icy blue eyes as he struggled lightly against the tight grip on his arms. "I could ask the same of you, Mr. Peacecraft..." he replied bitterly as he tried to think of a way out of this situation.

That comment made Milliardo's lips twist into a sneer as he delivered a sharp backhand to the boy's face. "It's not wise to talk back to your captors, boy..." he growled before fisting his hands in the front of his gray jumpsuit and forcing the blonde boy to face him again. "Now I'll only ask you this once... And it is in your best interests if you answer quickly and truthfully.."

Still glaring up at him, Quatre grunted something in some other language before nodding slightly. "I'm listening..."

"Why are you here, and what have to done to this plane?" Milliardo asked flatly.

The second question made Quatre blink in confusion. "The plane? I haven't done anything to the plane."

"Commander Peacecraft asked for the truth, you dog!" one of the guards shouted before kicking him in the side swiftly.

Gasping at the sudden blow, Quatre lost his balance and they let him fall to the hard metal floor. Clutching at his side protectively as he curled up on the floor, Quatre coughed harshly before he glared up at the guards. "I haven't done a damn thing to this stupid plane! If I did why the hell would I still be on it!" he shot back before bracing himself for another hit.

Both the guards were about to attack the defenseless rebel pilot once more, but stopped when Milliardo raised his hand. "He's right... if he did tamper with the plane he wouldn't have stayed aboard..." he muttered as he roughly pulled the boy to his knees again. "Alright.. We'll say you didn't sabotage the plane.. That still doesn't explain why you're here." Milliardo stated as he stared into those rebellious aqua eyes.

"Recon." Quatre replied simply, and silently wished it would be enough. Any more hits and he wouldn't be able to escape if the opportunity arose.

"On the cargo or the delivery point." Milliardo pressed on, surprised that he was offering up this much.

Their faces were close, too close for Quatre's taste. He was half tempted to lash out and bite the pale man's face, but restrained himself and figured the best course of action was to cooperate for now. "Both..."

Satisfied with his answers so far, another question entered his mind that nagged at him greatly. "How were you captured so easily? I thought you pilots were better trained than this."

That was something that also nagged at the boy. "I... I heard something strange... Coming from one of the crates... left my hiding place to check it out when that one guard caught me... or he thought he caught me..." Quatre finished the last few words with a smirk.

"Little bastard.." The one guard that had alerted Commander Peacecraft stepped forward and was about to kick the boy in the back.

"Hold it right there, Benson. I want to see this crate he's talking about..." Milliardo stated as he stood, dragging Quatre to his feet with him.

Benson's brown eyes grew wide for a moment and he stuttered out once more. "But sir.. Why should we trust him? He's a rebel spy! He's probably lying to get our guard down.. For all we know he's also lying about sabotaging the plane's equipment!"

Milliardo frowned and nodded slightly. "You're right, Benson... But we'll check the cargo once we land just to be on the safe side." He then turned his attention back to the blonde boy next to him. "As for this one strap him down to one of the seats.. Watch his every move, and stay a safe distance away from him. These Gundam pilots are trained to use anything as a weapon, so don't let him get hold of anything. I'm going to check on the pilots." he informed them as he headed back for the cockpit.

When he entered the cockpit the worried expressions on the pilots' faces didn't encourage him. "What's the situation now?" He asked as he leaned over the pilot's chair.

"Not good.." the Co-pilot muttered as he threw his headset down. "Something's jamming our signal. I can't contact the airbase."

"What's worse is that I'm not sure we'll even make it to the Timbuktu base..." the pilot stated in frustration. "The gauges are completely off.. The only thing that I'm certain of is that we're somewhere near the Algeria and Mali border..." he informed his commanding officer.

Milliardo clenched his fists tightly when he heard this information. "The guards found a rebel soldier hiding in the cargo hold... He might have had something to do with this. Until we find out more just do the best you can. If you have to... Make an emergency landing in the desert." Once he saw the pilots nod in agreement Milliardo made his way back to where his prisoner was held.

When he returned to the passenger area he was pleased to see Quatre tightly restrained in one of the seats, but noticed there were a few more bruises on his face than when he had left. He could see the red mark on his cheek where he had slapped him, but now there was a mark near his left eye and his lip was split open and bleeding. When he got closer he saw that the blonde boy was breathing raggedly and had his teeth clenched as if he were still in pain. _:Must have struggled...:_ he thought as he took the seat across from the young pilot. As he sat there he studied the boy intently and pondered the reasons for this handsome young man to throw away his comfortable life to choose the dangerous existence of a rebel soldier.

"Because I thought I could make a difference.." A soft voice called out.

Startled, Milliardo saw a pair of pain filled eyes looking at him calmly. Quatre's cracked lips twitched into a small smile as he continued. "What about you, Mr. Peacecraft.. Did you join this war because you felt you could change things for the better of your people... Or did you join to settle a score?" he asked as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Pale eyebrows furrowed deeply as Milliardo folded his arms over his chest and glared at his prisoner. "I don't see how that's any concern of yours considering your situation.. You should be more concerned about your health." he stated flatly, not willing to admit that the boy had struck a nerve.

Quatre chuckled lightly and bowed his head. "Yeah.. Like I haven't heard that one before... if I was only concerned with my health I wouldn't be here right now, would I?" he quipped as he peered through his long bangs at the man sitting in front of him.

"Heh.. I suppose not.." the pale man admitted with a smirk.

"Indeed... Now would you be as so kind as to tell me what's going on?" Quatre asked when he began to hear a peculiar sound that seemed to be coming from the plane's engines.

Milliardo heard it as well and he gripped tightly at the armrests of his seat when it steadily grew more pronounced. "I figured you would know..." he grunted, suddenly having a bad feeling as if the worse was yet to come.

Quatre had a similar feeling as the noise from the engines took on an odd pitch that signaled that something was going wrong. "That sounds... Sounds like the plane's running out of fuel..." he muttered as he frowned in concentration. "There's.. Something else... Something else is wrong..."

His pale blue eyes narrowed when he saw that the boy was being serious. "What?"

Closing his eyes tightly, Quatre concentrated on the familiar sound and tried to remember what it was. "That sound.. So familiar..." His brow furrowed deeply in thought before his head shot up and he looked straight into Milliardo's eyes. "The engines are over heating.. You need to land, now." he told him quickly, hoping that he would listen.

"Why should I believe you..." Milliardo asked, although all he could see in those bright eyes was a desperate honesty.

Growling slightly and struggling against his bonds, Quatre glared hard at his enemy. "Listen, I have no desire to die anytime soon.. If I did sabotage the plane why the hell would I tell you?" he asked gruffly as he struggled more. "Damnit, you'll have to make an emergency landing anyway if the plane is running out of fuel! Better to land now than wait ten minutes for the engines to explode!"

Although his mind was telling him not to believe his enemy, Milliardo's instincts were telling him to trust the boy. "Fine.. I'll have a word with the pilot, but if this is just an attempt to let my guard down for a chance escape..."

"Yeah yeah, you can beat my ass into the ground, now go before we crash!" Quatre snapped as he looked warily out the window at one of the engines.

The worried expression on that pale face was very convincing, and it made the white fang leader very curious as he stood up gracefully and headed back for the cockpit. "He's either telling the truth or a very good actor... But I do believe him when he said he didn't want to die.." He mumbled to himself as he reached the pilots once more. "What's the situation now?" he asked them, but knew it had to be bad just by their expressions.

"I wish we could tell you something good, Sir, but everything is going wrong... We're trying the best we can, but the controls are beginning to malfunction as well..." the captain told him with an exasperated tone. "We might not be in the air for much longer if things keep declining at this rate..."

"I see.." Milliardo mumbled thoughtfully before coming to a decision. "Land the plane as soon as you can. We can't risk something happening with the engines at this altitude."

"But sir, we're in the middle of the desert, shouldn't we get as far as possible?" the copilot protested lightly, not liking the thought of being stranded in this wasteland.

Milliardo understood the man's hesitation, but something had to be done soon. "Better to land in one piece in the middle of the desert than land in a million pieces in a populated area. Take her down. We can attempt to make repairs when we better understand the problems." he instructed them, more concerned with everyone's safety at this point.

"Yes sir.." both pilots responded as they began the procedures for a controlled landing.

Satisfied, Milliardo returned back to the passenger area only to see the two guards that had restrained the blonde boy standing in front of him, and seemed to be taunting him.

At one point one of the guards said something that seemed to highly upset the rebel pilot as he struggled harder in his restraints and growled dangerously. "Kul khara we moot!" he snarled viciously as he struggled harder against his restraints.

The guards looked at him like he was crazy as he spoke in a different language and took a step back. "Hey Charlie.. What the hell did he just say?" one guard asked to the other.

The man called Charlie shrugged and chuckled. "I don't have a clue... He's one of those filthy Arabs, probably some primitive gibberish." he laughed as he placed his hand on the blonde head and roughly messed up his hair.

Quatre's eyes flared at that remark and with a quick motion he jerked his head away from the man's touch, causing the guard's hand to drop low enough for Quatre to lunge forward a bite the hand hard.

Crying out in pain, Charlie jerked his hand away and looked to see a place on the back of his hand just below the thumb bleeding heavily. "Fucking hell! He just bit a chunk out of my hand!" he shouted as he staggered back and held his hand close to his chest.

Blood now covering his mouth, Quatre turned his head to the side and spat out the piece of the man's skin he had taken off. "Rouh ya Ayr!" he growled while still struggling with his restraints.

Milliardo couldn't help but smirk at the scene. _:My my.. I wonder if that trick was part of his basic training..:_ he mused silently. When he saw that the other guard was about strike out at the boy he called out. "That will be enough Private Kingston. I thought I told you to keep your distance from the prisoner." he stated loudly as he approached them.

Surprised at his commander's words, Kingston and the man named Charlie both stared at him. "But sir..."

"No buts, soldier! I told you that this rebel would be dangerous. It's your own fault for provoking him. Now you two join Benson in the cargo hold, we're having to make an emergency landing in the desert so we can fix the problems with the plane. Do I make myself clear?" Milliardo asked as he gave them a serious glare.

Knowing that he was becoming irritated, the two guards nodded and headed back to the Cargo hold as Charlie mumbled curses and held on tightly to his still bleeding hand.

Once they disappeared behind the cargo hatch, Milliardo turned his attention to the blonde boy who had his head bowed once more. Curious at how easily the young pilot could switch moods, he went back to his seat across from the blonde. "This war has turned you quite ruthless..." he commented lightly as he strapped himself into his seat.

"The same could be said for you..." Quatre said quietly as he lifted his head slowly. The blood on his pale lips and the sharp controlled focus in his eyes made the young pilot seem wild and dangerous, and it peaked the white fang leader's curiosity even more.

"I suppose..." Milliardo mumbled lightly as he thought of his own deeds to get this far. "How did you kill that other guard? I haven't gone back to check and they didn't tell me." he asked, wondering just how ruthless this boy was.

Quatre looked at him for a moment then looked out the window once more, feeling the turbulence of the plane beginning to land . "I was looking for the noise, and he sneaked up behind me some how... Held the gun to my head.. He said something strange.. That I was too late.. That things were going smoothly and I wasn't going to mess up his plans... Then the noise happened again and I was able to twist out of his grip when he got distracted... Grabbed the dagger from his belt and slashed at his throat." he told him calmly.

_:Ruthless indeed...:_ Milliardo shook his head slightly before bowing it himself. "How long have you been aboard?"

"When the plane first arrived at the Nairobi base last week..."

That made Milliardo raise his head and stared at the blonde boy in disbelief. "You've been aboard this plane for a week?"

Quatre shook his head and returned the man's stare calmly. "I was stationed at the Nairobi base posing as one of the ground crew for a week.. It was easy to gain access to the shipment plans. I established a secret compartment to hide in for the duration of the trip." he explained openly.

"I see... Why are you answering my questions?"

The moment he asked that question they felt the plane bump and jostle as it touched down on the ground. Once the plane came to a stop Quatre looked up at his captor and smirked before gesturing his head towards the windows of the plane. "Look for yourself, Mr. Peacecraft... There's nothing but sand out there for hundreds of miles in all directions... If this plane can't be fixed none of us are making it out of here... I doubt what I say will make much difference at this point."

As he looked out the window at the sand dunes that stretched out to the horizon Milliardo suddenly realized the truth behind the boys words and how much trouble they really were in. "You raise a valid argument there, Mr. Winner... Does that mean I will have your cooperation to aid in our situation if it is required?" Milliardo asked as he looked back at the pale face.

Quatre nodded slightly. "Keep those guards away from me and I'll help out if I can."

"I can agree to those terms. I'll make sure they stay a reasonable distance from you." Milliardo said as he unfastened his safety belt. Once it was off he moved to sit on his heels once more in front of the boy to get a good look into his eyes. "But if you try anything I will give the orders to shoot you down if necessary. If you're not working on something or sleeping you will be with me at all times. Your shackles stay on unless you need to use your hands, and you are not allowed to go anywhere without me unless I give you specific permission, do you understand?" When he saw the blonde nod he cautiously began removing the restraints that held the boy to the seat.

Soon the blonde rebel was free and he stretched his arms out and leaned back in his seat until he felt his spine pop. "Hmmm.. That's a bit better... Next time I'm making the compartment bigger.." Quatre mumbled as he twisted his neck at a certain angle until it popped as well.

Milliardo smirked and pulled him out of the seat. "Better behave then or I'll shove you back in there. Come on, we're going to the cargo hold." he said as he nudged the boy towards the cargo hatch.

Trying not to stumble, Quatre looked over his shoulder at his captor. "What for?"

"I want to see the damage you did to the guard you killed, and I want to see this secret compartment that you constructed." Milliardo informed the boy as he opened the cargo hatch and ushered the young pilot in.

Quietly the two blondes entered the large cargo space of the plane where huge crates were stacked and secured everywhere. Quatre was about to lead the older soldier to his hiding spot when he was stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder. "What?" he asked as he looked back to see the white fang leader pull a five foot long thick metal chain out of one of the crates. "What's that for?" he asked curiously, wondering if he should be worried.

Milliardo was amused by the wary look on the young face and had the gundam pilot turn around to face him. In one quick motion he attached the chain to a ring on the shackles and made sure it was secure before holding onto the other end of the chain and letting the rest of the length fall, causing Quatre's hands to be pulled down slightly from the weight of it. "I'm keeping you on a short leash, boy. Now show me where this compartment is." Milliardo ordered as he wrapped the chain around his hand once.

A pale eyebrow quirked up as Quatre studied the chain for a moment before shrugging slightly and walking towards the back of the cargo hold. Once they neared the back of the cargo hold Milliardo saw the dead guard on the floor and watched in fascination as Quatre calmly stepped over the motionless body in the pool of blood. Stepping over the body as well, Milliardo kept a close eye on the blonde boy as he pointed to a wall panel. "Behind that panel." he stated.

At first glance the panel appeared to be part of the normal wall, but since this was a gundam pilot he was dealing with, Milliardo figured that anything was possible. "Benson! Get over here now!" Milliardo bellowed out, knowing the guards were lurking somewhere in the area.

Soon Benson appeared out from behind one of the crates and turned pale when he saw the dead guard. "Y... Yes sir?"

Milliardo pointed at the panel. "I want you to check out that wall panel, see if there's anything behind it." he ordered while giving the chain a slight tug to pull the boy closer to him.

"Yes sir..." Slowly Benson approached the metal panel and ran his fingers around the edges carefully for anything unusual.

"Place your hands on the top corners then press inward." Quatre called out suddenly.

When Benson looked to his superior in question, Milliardo nodded. "Do it"  
Turning back to the panel, Benson placed his hands on the top corners and began to press inward. A soft click was heard then the panel slowly slid downward. It revealed a small cramped space that looked to be around two feet wide maybe overtwo and a half feet long and three feet tall, barely enough room for an adult to squeeze into, let alone stay in for any length of time.

After looking at the space then looking at the boy he held captive Milliardo couldn't believe that the pilot had stayed in there. "How long did you stay in there before you came out?" he asked as he stepped closer to inspect the compartment.

"Hmm... I got in it around.. Sixteen hundred yesterday..." Quatre figured roughly.

Milliardo halted his inspection and looked in shock at the boy. "It's almost eighteen hundred now... You mean to tell me you've been in this space for over twenty-four hours?"

Quatre looked at him puzzled and nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

He stared at the boy for a moment before shaking his head slightly and stuck his head inside the small space and looked around. Inside he found a laptop and a gun tucked away in one corner with extra clips of ammo. Reaching in he took out the small kalaber weapon and held it up for the boy to see. "Planning something with this?" he asked with a grunt.

"If you're asking if I was going to hijack the plane, then no. Merely defense purposes." Quatre told him honestly. "But please be careful with it. A friend loaned it to me." he added with a slight smile.

"I'll try to remember..." Milliardo snorted in amusement as he reached in for the laptop. When he had it he then began walking off towards the loading hatch at the back of the plane. "Let's take a look outside and see what's out there." he said as he pulled at the chain for Quatre to follow him.

A slight chuckled came from the blonde boy as he followed obediently. "I don't think you'll like it, Mr. Peacecraft." he warned lightly.

Ignoring the comment, Milliardo walked over to the control panel that would open the loading hatch. After entering the command, he waited for the hatch to lower and made sure he had a tight grip on Quatre's chain. Slowly the hatch lowered and the bright light that spilled forth into the cargo hold forced Milliardo to shield his eyes. After blinking a few times to become used to the light, Milliardo looked out and was greeted with the sight of golden shimmering sands stretching out into forever before him. "There's nothing..." he whispered to himself.

"I told you..." Quatre replied with a slight smile. "Here the desert is as big as the sky..."

Glaring out at the tall dunes, the white fang leader gripped tighter at the chain. "You don't seem worried about this..." When he glanced at the boy he was surprised at the smile tugging at the blood stained lips. "What's so amusing?"

Quatre's eyes locked with the icy blue ones for a moment. "Oh nothing..." he said as he looked away innocently and kicked the toe of his left work boot on the metal floor.

"You're hiding something..." Milliardo jerked at the chain hard, roughly pulling the boy closer to him. "Tell me what you're keeping from me..."

Glaring back at him almost daringly, Quatre slowly raised up his bound hands and pressed them against the older pilot's chest. "Quid pro quo, Mr. Peacecraft." he stated before lightly pushing away from him.

Surprised that this boy had such audacity Milliardo growled slightly in annoyance. "In exchange for what exactly?"

"You help me and I'll help you. Simple as that. As soon as I'm sure that you will hold up your end of our little agreement I will hold up mine." Quatre said somberly as he looked back out at the vast desert before them. "Until then I refuse to be pushed around, even if you do have the upper hand."

"And what if I decide to toss you out into the desert to fend for yourself."

The blonde boy faced him once more and smirked sarcastically. "Then you toss out your only hope of actually getting this thing off the ground."

"The pilots can repair.."

"The pilots can repair minor problems." Quatre cut in abruptly. "If it's something serious they won't have a clue. And for the equipment to malfunction either there's a really big problem or someone really knew what they were doing in order to sabotage it." he told him flatly.

Becoming frustrated at the fact that the boy was right, Milliardo held up the laptop that he retrieved for the secret compartment. "And what if I decide to check the files on here only to discover you actually sabotaged the plane?"

That made Quatre laugh sharply and earned the taller pilot a very sarcastic look. "You can think whatever you like, Mr. Peacecraft, but unless you know how to read ancient arabic text you're getting nothing from that thing." An odd smile crossed the young pale face as he leaned in closer and stared deeply into those icy blue depths. "But I will tell you one thing, Mr. Peacecraft..."

Forcing himself to stand his ground, Milliardo stared back into those wild aqua eyes. "I'm listening..."

"There's only one rule in the desert.. And that's to survive... I hope your men are well disciplined, Mr. Peacecraft, because if they're not there are going to be more problems arising sooner than you think." the blonde Arabian stated cryptically.

"What kind of problems would those be, Mr. Winner?" Milliardo asked in a near mocking tone.

Smirking like before, Quatre slowly shook his head. "You help me, I help you. Now I believe you need to check on the progress that the pilots are making." he said in a tone that meant the discussion was over.

A slight growl rumbled within the man's throat at being dismissed in such a manner, but he turned around without another word and walked back into the cargo hold. Although the boy was quickly becoming a nuisance, Milliardo thoroughly enjoyed the slight yelping noiseQuatre made when he sharply tugged on the chain.

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

yes! the dreaded multi chapter fic!

Muahahahaha!

anywho, here's the translations for the Arabic I used in this chapter.

_**Kul khara we moot**: Eat shit and die_

_**Rouh ya Ayr**: Get lost, you prick_

If I've made a mistake feel free to correct me!

hehe

Later!


	2. Goin Steady

Woo! I'm still alive!  
Just barely though.  
I got... A job! gasps  
Yes, horrible, I know, but I'm still trying to work on my fics and write new ones.  
So here's the next chapter!  
Enjoy!  
Chapter 2

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

The sun was beginning to set as the group of stranded soldiers looked at the state of their plane. The sand beneath them was still radiating heat from the course of the day, and made standing in one place rather uncomfortable for any length of time. A fine sweat was already forming on the pale brow of Milliardo and he had only stepped out with his prisoner five minutes ago to check on the problems. It was looking bad already when he saw how far the landing gear was buried in the sand, but it was rather entertaining to watch the pilots try to get their ladders to stay still in the sand while they attempted to climb up to the engines.

After another failed ladder attempt that ended with the co-pilot taking a face plant in the sand, Milliardo looked over to his prisoner who seemed to be enjoying the display a great deal. "I'm glad you find all of this amusing, Mr. Winner..." he muttered lightly.

Quatre didn't respond at first due to the fact he was biting hard at his knuckles to keep from laughing at the co-pilot as he pulled his head out of the sand. He quickly composed himself after he caught the annoyed glare the white fang leader was giving him and gave a slight shrug. "Well, I would have figured that after the first ten tries on getting that ladder to hold still they'd know better... But apparently they seem to enjoy the taste of sand..."

Both the pilots glared at the prisoner when they heard the comment, but they were unable to act on their anger as long as their leader was close by. "Alright, if you're so smart how do you propose we fix the damn engines?" the pilot asked sarcastically as he helped up his co-pilot from the ground.

"Heh, the way you're going you'll never reach them with that thing." Quatre laughed as he pointed to the aluminum ladder that had fallen along with the copilot.

The co-pilot growled slightly and was tempted to reprimand the prisoner. "Smart ass little.."

"That's enough, Jones..." Milliardo stated loudly to prevent a confrontation. He then gave a sharp tug on the chain connected to the boy's restraints to get his attention. "Are you saying that you know of a better way?" he asked while staring down the young rebel.

Quatre met the stare with a smirk and nodded. "There's always a better way, Mr. Peacecraft."

Disliking how every answer from his captive sounded like a cryptic double meaning, Milliardo pulled Quatre closer to him and clenched his fist as a warning. "Then I suggest you start explaining now..." He didn't like the strange feeling that even though the gundam pilot was bound, out numbered and out gunned some how the boy still had the advantage over them. _:He knows a lot more than he's letting on...: _

Looking back into those ice blue eyes calmly, Quatre held a quiet debate with himself over if he should answer. A quick glance towards the other five men standing around glaring at him quickly convinced him to talk. "Well for a start you'll never be able to use a ladder on this sand the way you're going about it..." he started slowly as he turned to face the ladder in question. "The only way to keep a ladder steady on this terrain is to bury a portion of it in the sand... But even then the winds could easily shift and make it unstable again... Plus the thing is made out of metal... Which isn't very smart to use with the sun out..." It was hard not to make his tone sound snide, but these were basic and very obvious things he was pointing out. _:These people haven't had much field training.:_ Quatre mused silently as he awaited for any further questions.

Milliardo could also see how obvious these things were as well and it got him thinking. _:Hmm.. Perhaps making a deal with him was a wise decision...: _"So what do you think should be done?" he asked in a more patient manner.

Noticing the change in tone, Quatre looked carefully to gauge the distance between the sand and the plane wing that was well over their heads. After guessing that it had to be around twenty to thirty feet off the ground, Quatre turned to the man that was holding him captive and spoke. "I think I can manage something to get up there. I'll need something to use as a harness, a lot of rope, some chains and something heavy to act as a counter weight."

Realizing what he was asking for, Milliardo smirked at the boy's cleverness. "You're wanting to make some sort of pulley system..?"

Quatre nodded again and gestured towards the wing. "It would be our best option considering the situation. Being suspended from a harness would allow more mobility and make any repairs easier. Do you have any pulley-blocks in your cargo?" he asked in the hopes they did.

Milliardo looked at his pilots expectantly for the answer. "Well?"

The two pilots looked at one another and bit back their anger as they answered. "We might..."

A frown creased Milliardo's brow at the uncertainty in their voices as he pointed towards the back of the plane where the loading hatch was opened. "Go check. We need to start work on getting things fixed as soon as possible, so find the other things Mr. Winner listed as well." he ordered firmly. When he looked back towards the boy he was pleased to see the aqua eyes glancing over the plane like they were calculating what all had to be done. "What else do you think will be necessary?" he asked, now seeing the boy as a potentially valuable asset in this waste land.

Quatre didn't answer at first as he took a few steps across the sand towards the left wing of the plane. He fixed his gaze on the massive engine the was on the underside of the wing as his mind went through all the things that might have caused it to over heat. Now that he thought about the heat he glanced slightly above the metal plane wing where he could see the heated air rising. Once he saw that he winced at the thought of how hot it had to be. "I'll need the proper tools... But I won't be able to start work on any of it for a while." he muttered loudly.

"Why is that?" Milliardo asked as he stepped forward to stand beside the prisoner.

"Hn... Okay, if you haven't noticed, this place gets really hot..." Quatre stated sarcastically as he lifted his bound wrists to point towards the wing. "The surface of that wing could be heated to well over two hundred degrees by now. Even with gloves and other protective equipment it'll be near impossible to make any progress."

The white fang leader would have been angry at the boy's tone if it hadn't been for the fact he was right. Again. _:I'm going to have to stay on my guard around this one... He's not like the others...:_ "Alright... Then when can you start work?" he asked as calmly as he could.

The strain behind the man's voice made Quatre smile slightly so he decided to give the man a break. "After sunset once everything starts to cool down. Just bring out any lights that you may have and set them up in the area. I can set them to the angles I need them once I get the pulley in place."

Milliardo nodded to what the rebel suggested so far, but there was another question lurking in his mind. "And you'll do this all on your own? Will you need any assistance?" The whole project sounded like an epic undertaking for a single person to accomplish. Even though he knew and saw first hand how resilient Quatre could be, he couldn't picture the fragile looking boy doing it by himself.

"It would go a lot faster if I had some help, but.." Quatre glanced back at the three guards standing in the shade idly while casting angered scowls in his direction. "But to be perfectly honest I don't think your men would appreciate me giving them orders..." he whispered as he looked back into the pale blue eyes. "If it's all the same to you, Mr. Peacecraft, I'd prefer to do it on my own to avoid any confrontation."

Having also seen the looks of disdain his men were directing at his prisoner, Milliardo nodded and tried to think of another solution. "Very well.. What if I assisted you instead?" he offered. He was very willing to place aside the fact that the young blonde was one of his most hated enemies for the sake of escaping the clutches of the over grown sand trap they were in.

Quatre was genuinely shocked by the offer, but he soon raised a pale eyebrow in curiosity. "Do you know anything about this sort of thing, Mr. Peacecraft...?" he questioned lightly.

Snorting softly, Milliardo crossed his arms over his chest. "Enough to know if you're lying about anything, Mr. Winner." He was almost insulted that the smaller pilot questioned his skills, but it was something new and wasn't entirely unwelcome.

That comment made the younger blonde chuckle softly as he gave a sly glance towards the white fang leader. "I suppose that's better than nothing..."

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

"Will this be enough light?"

Quatre glanced up from the lengths of chain he was working on towards his captor near the make shift spot lights and smiled. "Yeah, that'll be enough to work with... Where are the rest of your men?" he asked lightly as measured the chain once more.

Milliardo snorted slightly and made his way across the sands to the boy standing next to the tool cart they had managed to drag outside earlier. "Probably asleep. I told the pilots to keep working with the radio, but I doubt they'd still be working at this hour." It was obvious that he wasn't exactly thrilled with his subordinates at the moment, but it was hardly the time or place to complain about such things. Instead he focused on the meticulous manner that Quatre's hands were moving to check the strength and length of the chain. After a moment of silently watching he finally called spoke. "How are you going to wrap that chain around the wing without the ladder to get it up there?" he asked curiously, actually eager to see how the boy would solve that puzzle.

Sensing his eagerness, Quatre smirked and glanced up at the wing in question before he answered. "Well I had thought of using the ladder, but it would require using some of our water supply..."

"Our water...?" Milliardo asked a bit suspiciously.

Quatre quickly shook his head and chuckled. "No, don't worry, I scratched that idea. It would take too much.. The idea was to soak the ground beneath the ladder so the sand would be a bit firmer, but it would take too much to really get a solid base..." He paused for a moment to tighten a bolt that was connecting two of his chains together. "No, I have an idea that will probably work just as well though..." he muttered as he dropped the rest of the chain to the ground and moved for the rope that was on the other side of the tool cart.

A slight breeze that blew bycaused Milliardo to shudder slightly and tug his long coat around him a bit tighter. "Damn... The weather changes so drastically here..." he thought aloud, unable to see how the blonde was so calm about it.

"You think this is bad? In some places it can get down below freezing.." Quatre snorted as he busied himself with tying one end of the rope through one of the holes in a largewrench. A thought struck him and he gave a sideways glance towards his enemy. "In fact.. A lot of deaths that occur to people in the desert are a result of hypothermia... Not exactly something you'd think to worry about here, huh?" Quatre chirped almost cheerfully as he shrugged the coil of rope onto his shoulder and carried it towards the wing of the plane.

"Was that supposed to scare me, Mr. Winner..?" Milliardo asked sarcastically as he followed the boy to keep his eye on him.

The blonde boy looked over his shoulder at the man and smirked. "That depends, Mr. Peacecraft.. Were you scared?"

A sharp snort was his first answer as he rolled his ice blue eyes. "Hardly, Mr. Winner."

Quatre grinned and winked at his enemy as he tossed to rope coil to the sand. "Then it wasn't supposed to." he quipped lightly. Not waiting for another retort, Quatre took up the wrench that he had tied the rope to and began taking several paces backwards. His aqua eyes were fixed on the wing as he moved, silently calculating distances within his mind. "Let's see here... This should be far enough.." he told himself aloud and stopped in place.

Still following him out of curiosity, Milliardo stopped along beside him on the small sand dune abouttwenty feet away from the wing of the plane. "What are you doing?"

"Heh.. What's wrong, Mr. Peacecraft..?" the boy chuckled as he grabbed hold of the rope and tugged on it to get a bit more to work with. "Don't trust me?"

"Well do you trust me, Mr. Winner?" Milliardo shot back in a grunt.

Another chuckle escape Quatre's cracked lips. "At the moment I don't have much of a choice, Mr. Peacecraft..." He pointed to the side arm that was visible just under the man's coat. "You're the one with the gun... Now you might want to take a step back.." the boy warned lightly and let the wrench drop.

At first Milliardo was going to question what the gundam pilot was doing, but soon took several steps back when Quatre began swinging the wrench on the rope back and forth. Slowly the blonde rebel was able to build up the momentum of the swinging motion of the wrench until it was moving in a complete circle. Milliardo watched silently as his prisoner worked, keeping his hand close to his side arm just in case. Soon Quatre was swinging the wrench around very fast above his head at a slight angle, gradually letting the length of rope the wrench was attached to get longer. Once the length of the rope the wrench was swinging from was around three feet Quatre locked his eyes on the plane wing as he figured out how much more speed it would take.

When the wrench was spinning as fast as he could manage, Quatre waited until it was swinging towards the plane wing again. The second it pointed in the direction of the wing the rebel pilot let go of the rope completely. Milliardo watched as the wrench sailed into the air and began arcing right over the plane wing. It almost didn't make it the entire width of the wing, but it clipped the edge before it cleared and fell on the other side.

Although it stopped around eight feet from the ground Milliardo was still impressed. "Very resourceful..." he admitted as he turned to face his prisoner.

Quatre gave a careless shrug and smiled smugly up at the man. "You have to be when you're constantly on the run, Mr. Peacecraft..." His slender hand grabbed a hold on the sleeve of Milliardo's coat and tugged on it lightly to get him to follow. "Come on, this next part is going to be tricky." he announced as they made their way to wrench dangling on the other side of the plane wing. Both blondes stood beneath the slightly swaying wrench and stared at it until Quatre lightly nudged the older pilot in the side. "Can you reach it?" he asked expectantly.

Milliardo muttered something under his breath and reach his hand up towards the wrench. He stretched as far as he body would allow, but it was still around a foot out of his grasp. "No.. Even if I jumped I don't think I could.."

"Eh, you wouldn't be able to jump that well on the sand anyway..." Quatre mumbled as he tried to think of another way. His eyes glanced over towards the tool cart for a moment as he thought. _:Probably wouldn't be that much trouble to use another tool to hook it with...:_ But as he thought his eyes took a moment to scan over the White fang leader who was looking out into the clear night sky. The man seemed to be deep in thought himself the way his brow was creased in concentration and his arms were folded over his chest. It was interesting for Quatre to see such a calm exterior, yet on the inside he could sense that the situation was wearing at the man's nerves quickly. _:Maybe I should try to make things more interesting...:_ "Think you could pick me up?" he asked suddenly.

The odd question was enough to get the blonde man out of his brooding pose. "Pick you up..?"

Quatre nodded and pointed up towards the wrench still swinging tauntingly above them. "Yeah, just high enough so I can grab it."

Milliardo looked over the small Arabian and nodded. "I probably could... But don't you.."

"I won't try anything." Quatre cut in with a smirk. He then moved to stand very close to the blonde man and looked up into his pale eyes. "Well? That wrench isn't going to get down by itself." he pointed out coyly.

Glaring at how bold the young pilot was behaving, Milliardo bent over to grab a hold around the narrow waist. In one fluid motion he was able to easily lift the boy off the sand. He was actually very surprised at how light the blonde youth was, but pushed that though aside as he held on firmly. "Can you reach it?" Milliardo called out as he looked up to make sure the rebel was actually trying.

Quatre reached out for the wrench and felt his finger tips brush against the cold metal. "Almost... Just a little higher..." Nearly straining his arm, Quatre soon wrapped his fingers around the wrench and tugged on it to make sure the rope wasn't caught on anything. "Okay, I got it."

Once he was sure Quatre had it, Milliardo lowered him back to the sand. But just as Quatre's feet touched the sand it shifted suddenly and caused him to lose his balance. Before Quatre could hit the ground Milliardo moved forward and caught him, automatically pulling him close to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. After a moment he realized just how close he had pulled Quatre to him, but ignored the fact that their faces were only inches apart. "Are you alright, Mr. Winner?" he asked calmly as he looked into the blinking aqua eyes.

A bit startled at how fast everything had moved, Quatre focused on the pale blue eyes and smirked when he felt the almost protective grasp of the strong arms around him. "Well.. I suppose that depends, Mr. Peacecraft..." Quatre wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders and smiled sweetly. "Does this mean we're going steady...?" he purred out while batting his long eye lashes.

The look of shock that appeared on the White fang leader's face was enough to cause Quatre to burst out in a fit of giggles. When he realized what the gundam pilot had done Milliardo growled slightly and let go of his prisoner, letting him drop to the sand. Uncaring of the fact he landed very hard on his ass, Quatre was now holding onto his sides tightly as he rolled around gasping for air between his laughter.

Although now that he thought about it Milliardo had to admit it was amusing, but he wasn't about to let his prisoner know that. Pulling out his side arm, he aimed it between the aqua eyes and growled loudly. "If you weren't so damn important to our escaping this place I would have shot you by now..." he warned flatly. He had to keep a strong visage in front of the younger blonde if he wished to keep his leverage over him.

Unfortunately for Milliardo, Quatre could see right through him. "Ah yes, but luckily for me I am too damn important for you to just kill me, or even wound me, Mr. Peacecraft." he pointed out as he forced himself back on his feet. Once he was standing Quatre reached out and placed his index finger on the barrel of the gun still aimed at him and slowly pushed downward on it. He smirked mentally when Milliardo went along with the motion and soon the gun was aimed down at the sand. "Now you shouldn't be so serious all the time, Mr. Peacecraft." Quatre chided lightly. "A good friend once told me that in order to stay sane during these times one must have a sense of humor."

Milliardo rolled his eyes at the statement as he holstered his weapon. "Let me guess.. Maxwell..."

Quatre grinned broadly and shook his head. "No, actually Trowa told me that one. Anyway, you really should lighten up a bit, Mr. Peacecraft." he said as began to pull at the rope that was looped over the plane wing. "Alrighty.. Now for the tricky part... Here, keep pulling on this until I tell you to stop.." Quatre instructed as he held out the rope to his captor.

Still grumbling curses under his breath, Milliardo took hold of the rope and started pulling on it. After the older blonde had started, Quatrewent back to the tool cart where he had dumped the long chain he had been working with earlier. He gathered as much of the heavy chain as he could in his arms, and drug it over to where the rope coil on the sand was steadily getting smaller. Dumping the chain on the sand next to the rope, Quatre looked back to where Milliardo was still pulling on the rope. He couldn't help but think about how interesting it felt being that close to the deadly man. The emotions he had sensed from him also told Quatre that Milliardo found it intriguing as well which was slowly making a plan form inside Quatre's mind. _:Maybe I can use his curiosity to my advantage... And have a little fun in the process...:_ His eyes glanced over the white fang leader's strong form again and bit at his lip lightly. _:Make that a lot of fun... Just gotta figure out the right buttons to push...:_

Before his mind went sailing away into a fantasy, Quatre quickly reached out and grabbed at the end of the rope that was suddenly visible. "That's enough, Mr. Peacecraft.. Hold on just a second..." Taking up one end of the chain, Quatre threaded the rope through the last three links and tied it together securely. "Alright, start pulling again." Quatre called out as he took a step back .

Milliardo was quick to start hoisting the up towards the wing, but it took quite a bit more effort due to the greater weight. Soon the chain was raising into the air as Milliardo pulled on the rope, but he still kept glancing over to the gundam pilot to make sure he wasn't up to anything. During one of the glances he saw Quatre making sure that the chain would be getting close to the engine when it moved over the wing. It was hard for him not to feel some kind of silent respect for the young pilot with the way he carefully thought out every move he made like it would be his last. It was rare to find someone that put that much focus into what they were doing, and for that Milliardo was impressed. In fact that focus was probably the sole reason he placed what little trust he had in the boy.

Once the chain started moving over the wing the other end of it became visible. When he finally saw the end of the chain, Quatre quickly grabbed hold of it and called out to the older blonde. "Okay, hold it there for a minute!" He waited for the upward motion of the chain stop before quickly moving to the large pile of rope next to the white fang leader. It took a few seconds of digging, but he eventually found the other end of the rope tied to the wrench under the pile. After quickly untying the rope from the wrench, Quatre then tied it to the end of the chain like he had done to the other end. As he made sure the rope was secured tightly to the chain he glanced over at Milliardo who was still watching him like the proverbial hawk. "This way if something causes the chain to slip before I get the pulley block on we can just hoist it back up without have to go through all the steps again." he explained as he let go of the chain once more.

"It sounds like you've had plenty experience with things like this..." Milliardo commented as he began pulling on the rope once more.

Quatre chuckled slightly as he wandered back towards the tool cart. "It comes along with having little to no resources at your disposal..."

Milliardo looked at the blonde rebel curiously as he kept pulling on the rope. "With as rich as your family is? I would think you could probably buy an army to be at your disposal."

"Oh I could have, Mr. Peacecraft... Could have raised my own private military organization and ran it from the comfort of one of the family estates much like your old superiors are doing as we speak..." Quatre answered as he dug around the tool cart for something.

That admission made Milliardo pause in his task to look at the boy curiously. "Why haven't you then...? From the sound of it you could have bought Oz or the old Alliance right out from under the commanding officers." It probably would have been a complete take over if the young soldier had waved even a fraction of his wealth around for the forces to see.

Glancing over his shoulder, Quatre smirked and held up two fingers. "Two reasons, my dear Mr. Peacecraft... One is that I disinherited myself from the family fortune. The only help I get financially is when my sisters threaten my well being to accept their offers. Got to the point where I had to cut communication with them all together to lessen the risk of endangering them."

Milliardo nodded, understanding the need to distance one's self from the people they care for in the midst of a war. "What's the second reason?" he asked as he tried to ignore the horrible scratching sound the chain made as it moved over the wing.

Quatre chuckled softly as he pulled out a metal pipe from the tool cart that was around two feet long. "You can't buy, loyalty, Mr. Peacecraft... That's why I got involved directly... If I was going to find people to help my cause that I trusted, I had to go out and earn their trust... You can't do that from behind a desk." the young soldier stated as he brought the pipe back to where Milliardo was working.

"A very valid point..." Milliardo grunted as he kept pulling. "Sometimes I wonder if my troops are following me because they believe in what I want or if they're just in it for the money..." It was a thought that nagged at his mind quite frequently, and it was distracting him to the point where he didn't notice that the chain was now all the way over the wing.

When he saw that the chain was where he wanted it to be, Quatre moved closer to the blonde man and smirked softly. "From my experience, Mr. Peacecraft, you never know until it comes down to a tragic event..." Quatre placed a hand on the man's shoulder to get him to stop, and waited til the icy gaze was fixed on him before he continued. "Only when everything is at stake do you find out who really believes in you..." he said in a whisper.

From the serious glint shining behind the aqua eyes Milliardo was confused for a moment. "Heh.. So you're telling me that you believe in my cause now..? I find that highly unlikely, Mr. Winner." he snorted, but it didn't take away from the soul searching gaze the rebel pilot had fixed on him.

Quatre's smirk turned into a knowing smile as he shook his head. "There's a difference between belief in a cause and belief in a person, Mr. Peacecraft... I may not agree with your ideals, but you are a formidable opponent. I'm very willing to bet that you could accomplish anything should the need arise... Anyway, time to get that pulley block on." Before Milliardo had time to reply Quatre was already gathering the two hanging ropes and began twisting them together.

At first Milliardo couldn't figure out what Quatre was doing, but then he noticed that by twisting the two ropes together that it was bringing the two ends of the chain closer together under the plane wing. "So you're going to climb up the twisted ropes and try to set the hook of the pulley block in the chains?" he asked as he stood close to the young rebel to observe him.

"If I can get it tight enough I'm going to try to..." Quatre muttered as he kept twisting the ropes. "This is the tricky part... I have to hope the chain is strong enough and the rope holds where I tied it to the chains... If it doesn't we'll have to start all over again.. After I deal with a nasty fall." he added with a humored pitch.

"Hn.. Please try not to fall. I'm making no guarantees that I'll catch you this time." To be honest with himself he was still confused about the last time. It felt odd holding the boy that close to him, but not entirely unpleasant. Strange as it was, Milliardo was determined not to let it distract him.

But Quatre was well aware of how much it was already distracting him. "Aww.. Just when I thought you cared." he teased as it became steadily harder to twist the rope. When he twisted the ropes as much as he could with his hands he picked up the pipe he had shoved in the sand next to him and looped the end of the shortening rope around it a few times before tying it. Once the roped was secured to the pipe he handed it over to the White fang leader. "Here, keep twisting it until the chains are as close as they can get. I'm going to check out the pulley block again."

Milliardo took the pipe and began twisting the ropes like instructed. Things were proceeding smoothly so far, and Milliardo was encouraged that maybe they could make it out of the sandy death trap they were in. _:But the question is.. After we make it out of here what should I do with the boy...? He's a source of valuable information... If I let him go my men will get angry at me... But I can't toss him to the interrogation officers... Not after him helping us get out of this place...:_ Since they weren't out of the over grown sand box yet, Milliardo decided that he had plenty of time to figure that out later.

Soon the ropes were twisted to the point where the two ends of the chain were almost touching. When he saw that they were Milliardo held on tightly to the pipe and looked over where Quatre was walking back with the pulley block and hook in his hands. "Is this good enough..?"

Quatre glanced up at how close the chains were and nodded. "Yes, that'll do just fine... Now I need you to hold on to that as tight as you can while I climb up." He waited for blonde man to nod and tighten his grip on the pipe before he approached the rope. After putting the hook of the pulley block on one of his jumpsuit pockets Quatre took hold of the rope and began hoisting himself up, taking care not to kick Milliardo in the face as he started to climb. It took a great deal of careful effort, but soon Quatre slowly made his way up the twisted ropes.

Holding the ropes as steady as he could, Milliardo watched closely as the blonde rebel got closer to the chains. Once Quatre was close enough he let go of the rope with one hand and reached down to grab hold of the pulley block. When he had a firm grip on it he reach up and attempted to place the hook through the two ends of the chains. There was a few times Milliardo had to hold his breath when it looked as if the young blonde was going to lose his balance, but somehow he was able to get the hook through the chain links.

After the chains were securely joined Quatre grabbed hold of them and let go of the ropes completely. "Let go of the ropes!" he called out quickly as he hung onto the chains as tight as he could.

Shocked at the order Milliardo stared up at the rebel for a moment, but when he saw the serious expression on the battered face he let go of the pipe and quickly took a step back. The pipe spun around at an alarming rate as the ropes unraveled, and for a moment Milliardo was worried that the pipe with come loose and hit something. Like himself. But those thoughts were ignored as he looked back up to see Quatre still hanging onto the chains. "I hope you're not expecting me to catch you, Mr. Winner!" he said sarcastically to hide his growing concern.

"That's quite alright, Mr. Peacecraft!" Quatre chuckled despite his dangerous position. "I wouldn't want to put you under too much pressure on our first date!" he laughed as he carefully reached out to untie one of the rope ends from the chain.

"And what gives you the impression that this is a date...?" Milliardo asked as he kept a close eye on what the boy was up to.

Looking down from where he was practically dangling from the chain Quatre smirked at the White Fang leader and winked. "Look around you, Mr. Peacecraft... Working under the stars, just the two of us... Are you saying you're not enjoying yourself...?" he asked coyly as he turned his attention back to untying the rope.

Milliardo paused for a moment as he processed what his enemy had just said. Now that he took a moment to look around at his surroundings he had to admit that the scenery was very romantic. And not only that he did have to admit to himself that he was enjoying the young soldier's company. _:I can't be thinking like this.. He's merely trying to let my guard down so I'll treat him better...:_ he concluded firmly as he frowned. "You're supposed to be working on fixing this plane, not enjoying the scenery... Now what are you doing up there?" he asked gruffly as he attempted to ignore the part of him that was wanting to admit what he was feeling.

Sensing his confusion, Quatre fought off a knowing grin as he finally got the rope loose. "I'm going to thread this rope through the pulley block and lower myself down..." he explained as he began fitting the rope onto the pulley. He had to work quickly because his left hand was slowly starting to lose its grip on the chain. After a few more seconds he was able to get the rope set on the pulley wheel and pulled enough of the rope through so he could let go of the chain and grab hold of the ropes once more.

Soon he was slowly lowering himself down the ropes until his feet finally touched the sand once more. When his feet were back on semi solid ground he looked over at Milliardo and smiled. "Tada! There you go, Mr. Peacecraft, once secure pulley ready to go." he chuckled as he looked at the raw marks on his hands from having to climb the ropes and hang onto the chain.

"Very impressive, Mr. Winner..." Milliardo admitted as he moved to stand beside the Arabian so he could get a better look at the pulley. Glancing back to the young rebel he also noticed the near blistered palms, which caused him to frown slightly. "Do you need to have your hands tended to before you start on the engines..?" he asked quietly while taking one of the delicate scuffed hands into his own larger ones to examine it.

Quatre was a bit surprised at how gently the blonde man was holding his right hand, and it made a slight smile form on his lips. "Don't worry about it... I've had worse... Just help me find a harness and a tool belt and I'll be able to start work within the hour..." His voice lost its playful edge as he attempted to make sense of the emotions that were spinning around in the torrent of the man's mind. _:He's concerned.. And intrigued... Perhaps there really will be a chance for a bit of fun..:_ The idea was very pleasant to him, but he knew that he would have to go through a great deal of hell to get to that point. _:I think it'll be worth it...:_ his train of thought stopped when he noticed Milliardo was now just holding his hand a bit longer than really necessary. _:Scratch that.. I know it'll be worth it..:_

Noticing that he still had the boy's hand in his own, Milliardo tried his best to keep his stern appearance as he dropped the abused hand. "I think we can use one of the harnesses from the emergency parachutes... I'll get one of them.. Can I trust you not to do anything if I leave you by yourself...?" he asked seriously as he glared into the glimmering aqua eyes.

Smirking once more, Quatre folded his arms and looked around the vast nothing that surrounded them. "I don't think there's much I can do, Mr. Peacecraft..." He suddenly gave the White fang leader a sly look as he lightly licked at his lips. "At least not without you..." he purred suggestively.

Milliardo stared at the boy blankly for a moment before snorting and turning away. "Just stay put until I get back with the parachute..." he grunted while making a swift retreat back inside the plane. "Is he serious, or just playing me...?" he whispered to himself as he stomped up the loading hatch.

The smirk still on his lips, Quatre sighed in satisfaction as he turned to look up at the night sky above him. "Both, my dear Milliardo... Both..."

_fjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

hehehe

I love a smart ass naughty Quatre

Anywho, come on people! Lemme know what ya think!

The more good reviews I get the more I'll wanna continue!

Lemme know ya wuv me!

Later!


	3. Back Stabber

Rawr!

Got chapter 3 right here for ya!

I've got like 20 other fics in the works, so sorry for the massive time gaps between posts.

I get distracted easily

Anywho, things are gonna start ta heat up in this part

Enjoy!

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 3

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

After attempting every access code and hacking trick he knew at least three times, Milliardo finally gave up on trying to access the files on the laptop he confiscated from his young prisoner almost three days ago. Much to his displeasure, the boy had been telling the truth about the amount of security that was on the device. Not only were all of the files written in ancient arabic text, he later found out that it was also in cryptic coding that undoubtedly required perfect fluency in the nearly dead language.

"Why couldn't it have been one of the others... of all the pilots it had to be the strategist... I'll never get anywhere at this rate..." Milliardo mumbled as he looked out the passenger window where the blonde in question was currently checking one of the engines. He had to admit to himself that he was impressed at how the boy was able to rig up the makeshift pulley system from the supplies in the cargo hold. What he was even more impressed with was the fact the young pilot could work in such intense conditions without a single complaint. It only took ten minutes out in a harsh sun before his own troops became irritable.

"There has to be more to him than meets the eye... If only I could find out what..." he whispered to himself.

Quatre had become a mystery to him that he was actually eager to solve. He had never met a soldier that was so laid back yet serious at the same time. But what was really swirling around his mind was the flirting that the rebel had thrown at him almost constantly. On the one hand he was almost certain that it was just a tactic to get him off his guard, but there was small portion of his thoughts that was actually intrigued by what the boy was offering him.

Although he denied those thoughts with an all out prejudice, the fact that they were still there didn't fade. Normally Milliardo was never attracted to men, which was another reason why he was putting up such a strong resistance. He had only been really attracted to one other man in his life and he was trying his damnedest not to think of said person. After a few moments of trying to avoid another mental tangent to himself, Milliardo sighed deeply and turned his focus back on the rebel hanging out of the engine.

After watching the young Arabian for a few minutes he took a quick glance at his watch only to realize that the boy had been working non stop for the past six hours. "Hmm.. Better bring him in before he passes out from heat stroke..." Placing the laptop in the empty seat next to the one he was in, Milliardo stood up and headed for the cargo hatch.

As he walked he thought about the things that Quatre had said to him as they worked together the night before._ 'He believes in me... But not in my cause... I'm not sure if that makes sense... If I take that in a literal sense then that mean he's not fighting against me personally... Just my beliefs... Which is nearly the same as fighting me... Damnit, I'm confusing myself... Maybe he's just trying to get me to surrender by giving me a massive headache.' _The possibility was a valid one since the headache that was forming was making it harder for him to concentrate.

But there was one thing that he was certain of. Having Quatre around was making everything far more interesting. Despite the constant flirting and the defiance that was always behind the rebel's actions, Milliardo had to admit he enjoyed the light banter that they would occasionally fall into. The pilots and the guards were his subordinates and wouldn't dare to question his authority. The gundam pilot offered opposition, another educated opinion that wasn't afraid to defy him.

It stirred within him odd feelings that seemed familiar. Although he couldn't quite place them yet, it left him very intrigued. As he walked through the cargo hold he saw the three guards and the two pilots playing poker near the open loading hatch. The sight angered him that they were slacking while the young blonde was still working hard on their behalf.

When he walked over to where they had set up their game, Benson immediately shot up from his seat the moment he saw him. "Commander Peacecraft..." he said nervously as his cards fell from his hand.

Glad to see that his intimidation still worked, he motioned for the soldier to sit back down before he looked over to the plane's captain. "I'm assuming that things are progressing rather well in the cockpit for the two of you to be taking a break to play cards..." he grunted as he folded his arms over his chest and awaited their report.

The two pilots looked at one another for a brief nervous moment before the captain cleared his throat. "We still haven't located the exact problem... But.."

"Then why are you in here and not in the cockpit doing your job?" Milliardo asked flatly as he lofted one thin eyebrow.

"Umm.. We were... Just going to get started again..." the copilot said slowly as he stood, nudging the captain to do the same.

Quickly the two pilots rushed off to return to their posts, leaving the three guards sitting at their fold up poker table looking around blankly. Knowing that three guards in this place were pretty much useless, Milliardo ignored them for the time being and walked down the hatch. When he was on the hot sand he started walking to where the blond boy was dangling next to the engine.

Once he reached the wing of the plane he looked up at the boy half way hanging into the jet engine. The sweltering heat was already getting to him, so he didn't see how the boy could stand it for as long as he had. "Mr. Winner, I think you've been working on that long enough for now." he called out as he retrieved the shackles that he had left near the tools the boy was using.

He saw the boy move one arm in a motion that signaled he wouldn't be much longer. Milliardo waited for the boy to finish what he was working on patiently in the decreasing shade that the plane provided. He knew that noon was approaching, and with that he knew it meant the temperature would rise as well.

Milliardo then gazed out onto the nearly nonexistent landscape and couldn't help but wonder who or what could survive in a desolate place like this. It made him feel exposed and maybe even vulnerable, but he stubbornly pushed those thoughts away when he noticed movement at the engine. He watched as Quatre slowly lowered himself down to the ground, but when the young pilot touched the ground he suddenly fell to his knees in the sand and grunted slightly as if he were in pain. Startled, Milliardo quickly moved to crouch down beside him and slowly tried to help him back to his feet. "Are you alright?" he asked, surprised to find himself actually concerned.

Not noticing the hint of worry that stained the man's voice, Quatre nodded and clutched at the supportive arms tightly. "Yeah.. Legs just went numb.." He said as he experimentally bent his knees to get the blood flowing once more.

"If you needed a break why didn't you stop?" Milliardo asked as he held the boy steady.

Quatre looked up at him in confusion. "You told me to keep working until you came to get me."

Frowning slightly, Milliardo suddenly felt bad that the boy had followed his orders to the letter. "Well next time take a break if you need one. I can't have you injuring yourself here... Like you said, you're the one that knows what to do." he added quickly.

A little too quickly as Quatre raised an eyebrow at how strangely he was acting. "Heh.. Didn't know you cared, Mr. Peacecraft..." He then saw that the man had changed out of his formal uniform coat into a red short sleeved t-shirt. "You need to put a shirt with longer sleeves on when you come out here..."

Milliardo looked at the boy skeptically at the sudden statement. "What? It's over a hundred degrees out." he said sarcastically, wondering if the boy had been out in the sun a little too long.

Ignoring the sarcastic tone, the boy continued. "You need to keep as much skin covered as possible here.. The sun and heat will make your body dehydrate quicker if you leave any skin exposed..." Quatre told him calmly as he held out his wrists to be shackled once more.

Milliardo paused for a moment to look at the boy's face. Seeing that he was being serious, his thoughts wondered back to their agreement. _'I help him.. He helps me...'_ he thought silently as he placed the shackles back around the slender wrists. When he made sure the shackles and the chain were secure, he led the boy back to the loading hatch.

The moment they were in the cargo hold Milliardo noticed the hatred heated glares that the guards were throwing in the youth's direction from their place at their card table. A quick glance let him see that the young rebel wasn't paying attention to them in the least. Impressed once again by the boy's self restraint, Milliardo knew that he had made the right decision in striking up a deal with him.

Soon he had guided the boy back to the passenger area and let him sit in one of the seats to rest. After securing the chain to another seat, Milliardo moved to a refrigerated storage compartment and opened it to pull out a clear plastic bottle of water. After opening the bottle he took it back to the blonde boy and held it out to him. "Here... We have plenty stored away to last us several more days..." he told him quietly.

Quatre took the offered bottle in his bound hands and looked up at Milliardo. "Thank you..." he whispered then raised the bottle to his dry lips and drank in large gulps. When he drank his fill he lowered the nearly empty bottle and focused on the shape of it as he spoke. "You shouldn't keep the loading hatch open during the day..."

Seeing that the young pilot was offering a piece of advice, Milliardo sat on the edge of the seat across from him and gave him his full attention. "Why is that?"

"Because the temperature can easily climb over 150 degrees during mid day. If you have extra ammunition or explosives they have a chance of becoming too hot while inside the plane and explode... If possible all explosives and ammo should be placed in a cooler area of the plane..." He then looked up at Milliardo and continued. "And everyone should be wearing loose clothing that covers as much skin as possible if they have to go outside.. That includes covering their heads and faces... But they should stay inside as much as possible as long at the climate controls are still operational..."

Milliardo nodded in understanding then leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs as he thought over the boy's words. "Can you answer one question for me?" he asked when he thought of something.

Quatre nodded slightly. "I will try."

"Why were you sent on this mission? I would have figured Heero would want to be in charge of any mission concerning myself." the white fang leader asked, having wondered that since the boy was discovered.

That caused a soft chuckle to escape Quatre's lips as he too relaxed back in his seat. "Normally you'd be right, but all of us agreed that I was better suited for this mission."

"And what makes you better suited?"

"You only asked for one question to be answered, Mr. Peacecraft." Quatre pointed out with a slight smirk.

Smiling in amusement at the boy's quick wit, Milliardo waved his hand in the air in dismissal. "Humor me please."

The blonde captive thought for a moment then decided to play along. "Because I've had the necessary survival training and experience in case a situation like this occurred."

Milliardo nodded. "I had a feeling it would be something like that... So if you wanted to you could have escaped while you were out working on the engines and survived in this place..." he deduced.

Quatre nodded solemnly. "If I could have raided your supplies first I could have set out the first night." he confessed, seeing no sense in hiding the obvious now.

"Why didn't you?" Milliardo asked intently, not sure he completely understood.

Crossing his own legs, Quatre delicately folded his hands in his lap and looked on at his captor sedately. "When I was strapped to this seat yesterday, you could have let those guards do whatever they wanted, but you stopped them. I figured I owed you for that, so I offered my services to you. Since you agreed, I am going to hold up my end of the agreement." Quatre explained.

"I see..." Milliardo mumbled softly, now holding a new sense if respect for his prisoner. "So what are our odds of surviving this?" he asked as he relaxed back into his seat. He was glad that the rebel was being so honest with him. If it were any of the other pilots he was certain they would have left him and his men behind to fry in the desert heat

That caused Quatre to frown slightly, which indicated that the following wasn't going to be good news. "At this point, not very encouraging to put it simply.. I've found that it's not a lack of fuel that's the problem, it's the wrong kind of fuel... It's a richer and thicker fuel that's causing the engines to produce more power than they can handle, so they're over heating quickly..."

Milliardo gritted his teeth together and closed his eyes tightly at that information. "So we're stuck here..."

"Maybe not..." Quatre cut in. "If we can find out what's jamming the communications we might be able to send out a distress signal..."

"That's an option.. But how can we find out what's jamming the signals?"

"This isn't a dead zone, so communications are possible here." the young blonde pointed out. "And since there aren't any bases for hundreds of miles around, or anything else for that matter, that could possibly be sending out a jamming signal..." Quatre trailed off to let the older blonde place the last piece of their puzzle.

And it wasn't long before Milliardo got at what the boy was hinting at. "So it has to be coming from the plane itself... So we'll have to make a full search of the entire plane, but where should we start?" he asked, now being thankful that he was stuck with the strategist of the rebel pilots.

Quatre thought for a moment before responded. "The cargo.. While I was in the compartment my laptop kept acting as if some kind of energy signal was causing the electronics to malfunction. That must have been the noise I heard, the device that was putting out the signal." Quatre concluded finally.

"Very well.. I'll have the guards search the cargo first. If it's not there we'll have to search the entire plane." Milliardo said as he stood and quickly headed for the door. Before he reached the door he thought of something else and turned back around to address the blonde gundam pilot agian. "Be warned that this better not be an attempt to distract myself and the crew in order to buy you time to form some sort of plan..." he stated firmly as he gave the boy an icy glare.

Quatre rolled his eyes and lifted his bound wrists. "I don't think I'm going anywhere any time soon. What would be the point?" he asked sarcastically.

Milliardo smirked slightly and returned for his original course to the cargo hold. As soon as the door hissed closed a wide smirk appeared on Quatre's face and he glanced out the window where his makeshift pulley was swaying in the desert breeze. "You are a hard man to fool, Mr. Peacecraft.. But I don't need extra time to form a plan... I already have one.." he mused aloud as he made himself comfortable. He needed to sleep as much as he could if he was going to be ready for the evening when he would be put back to work.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Stirring from the light nap he had been taking, Quatre cracked his eyes open slightly and glanced around for a moment. He heard a noise of some kind that seemed familiar to him, but his sleep fogged senses couldn't quite tell what it was. When he heard it again he forced himself to sit up and try to focus his vision. Once he could see clearly he looked around the passenger cabin for whatever could be causing the strange noise.

"I know I've heard that before..." he muttered when he heard it again off in the distance. Soon he heard the sound of foot steps coming from the cockpit. Looking forward he saw the soldier called Benson walking from the cockpit with a small metal box in the crook of his right arm. As if the fact that the private was even in the passenger cabin wasn't enough to raise his suspicion, the metal box immediately placed Quatre on his guard.

As Benson came closer his brown eyes locked with Quatre's for a moment then a deep scowl formed on his face. "What the hell are you looking at...?" he asked gruffly.

The angered tone made Quatre curious for a moment. From what he had seen before Benson was usually a skittish and easily intimidated man. _'Why do I get the feeling there's more to him than what I've seen...'_ he wondered silently before he spoke. "Well at first glance I thought it was something I might actually have to worry about..." A smirk suddenly formed on his face as he looked over the man. "Now that I've had a closer look I see nothing worthy of being noted." he mused aloud. A loud growl was the next thing he noticed before he felt a sharp pain in his face from the harsh punch the soldier gave him.

Satisfied to see the line of blood that was trickling down the pale chin, Benson thought for a moment as he glanced between the cockpit and the boy who was trying to shake his head clear. Soon an evil smirk formed on his face as he quickly headed back for the cockpit.

Groaning softly, Quatre blinked the spots out of his vision and moved his jaw to make sure nothing was out of place. '_Damn.. He's tougher than he acts... Why has he been acting like a pussy though...? Is it because I'm chained up..?' _he wondered lightly. He lifted his head and his eyes widened when he saw the two pilots standing in front of him with very angered expressions on their faces. '_Uh oh... this doesn't look pleasant..'_ he thought just before the captain's hand fisted in his jump suit.

The captain leaned in close and glared into the aqua eyes. "I should have known a filthy Muslim like you would start spouting out your damn religious bullshit... You people make me sick..." he growled dangerously.

Quatre could only stare in confusion as he sat there chained to his seat._ 'But I'm not a Muslim.. I'm a Sufi...' _he thought lightly to himself, but he seriously doubted that they would know the difference. "Umm.. I'm not sure I know what you're talking about..." Even as he said that he glanced past the two pilots and saw the sinister expression on Benson's face as he headed for the hatch. _'Kanith... He made up something to sic these two on me... Note to self.. Shoot the bastard..' _

"Heh, he's too scared to say anything now..." the copilot snorted before delivering a harsh slap to the boy's face.

Grunting in pain, Quatre was helpless as he sat chained to his seat. _'I.. I could try to kick him.. But then the pilot would only hit me again... Damnit, where's Milliardo...?' _he asked silently as a hard punch was delivered to his stomach.

He coughed harshly and wanted to double over, but a tight grip in his hair stopped him from moving anywhere. "Khara!" he hissed sharply when the grip became tighter.

"Heh.. Finally got you to speak that Muslim shit..." the pilot laughed as he pulled tighter on the blonde hair.

"Unnn! It's called Arabic, you fucking moron... Why don't you quit bothering me and go do your fuckin job... Or do you wanna die in this damn plane..." Quatre growled, but it was turned into a choking gasp when another punch was dealt to his gut.

The copilot forced his fist harder into the rebel's stomach and kept it there to make it hard for the prisoner to breathe. "You're probably the reason we're even here... Commander Peacecraft was crazy to even consider accepting your help..." he muttered in anger before giving a swift kick to the boy's left shin.

Quatre gritted his teeth and let out a loud grunt that echoed in the passenger cabin. His shin and stomach were now both throbbing in pain, but he ignored them both when he sensed someone coming closer. When he recognized who it was his lips twisted into a smirk as he locked his eyes with the copilot. "Heh.. Crazy huh...? Why don't you tell him that... He's right outside the door..."

"Yeah right... Like we're going to fall for that.." the pilot snorted as he reared back his first.

"Fall for what, Mr. Glenns?" a deep angered voice called out from the hatch door.

The pilot froze when he heard the voice and slowly looked up only to be caught in an icy glare. "Commander Peacecraft! I... We were just.."

"Beating my prisoner..." Milliardo finished flatly as he stepped further into the passenger cabin. He glanced over at the boy who looked a bit worse for wear, but so far okay. "When I told the guards to stay away from him I didn't think I had to warn the two of you as well..." His hand raised and pointed rigidly towards the door. "Since the only thing you've managed to accomplish here is gang up on a restrained boy, go search the cargo for the jamming device... Now..."

"But, sir..."

"I said now, Jones!" Milliardo snapped as he clenched his fists. He watched the pair quickly scramble to leave the cabin and was pleased that his intimidating growl still worked. His attention quickly turned towards the boy whose head was hung low and he breathing was slightly labored. Moving to his side, Milliardo knelt down in front of his prisoner and gently lifted up his bruised chin. "Are you okay...?" he asked while following the line of blood on the pale skin with his eyes.

Quatre gave a slight shrug and looked into the man's eyes. "With all things considered.. Yeah, I'm okay... After a while you get used to this sort of thing..." he muttered as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

The way he moved so gingerly caused Milliardo to frown deeply. "I suppose I should have extended my warning to the pilots as well.. I didn't expect them to turn on you..." He was actually angry with himself that this happened. _'I made a deal that no one would hurt him... How can I expect him to hold up his end if I can't hold mine...?'_

But the battered rebel shook his head and bowed it once more. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Peacecraft... Just let me rest a few more hours before I start working again..." he whispered as he tried to shift his weight to where his stomach wouldn't hurt.

"Are you certain that you can work tonight...?" Milliardo questioned skeptically.

The blonde head lifted slightly before aqua eyes carefully examined the man's face. "Are you giving me the option not to...?"

Standing, Milliardo folded his arms over his chest and regarded the boy as calmly as he could manage. "If you need to rest you can stay here and sleep for the night..."

Quatre was surprised at the considerate offer, but he wasn't sure if he could afford to put off his plan. _'If I expect my plan to work I'm going to need all the energy I can get...' _"I suppose I could use the rest... But I thought you still needed the pilots to try to regain communications..."

"They haven't made any progress since we landed here." Milliardo muttered as he took up the seat that he had been sitting in earlier. "Not even the laptop they have in the cockpit has been working properly, so I doubt they would have suddenly discovered a solution to our problem any time soon."

When he heard the portion about the laptop in the cockpit Quatre glanced briefly at his own in the seat next to the whitefang leader and chuckled slightly. "Mine probably won't be of any use either then... I don't think there's much we can do until we either find the jamming source or a plane happens to see us... How long before your forces will send out a search team for you..?" he asked so he could figure out a proper time frame that he could work with.

"Normal procedure is to send out a search team after a seventy two hour period.. So the searching should commence tomorrow..." the man mumbled as he leaned back in his seat. He carefully looked over the new bruises on the boy's face and wondered why he felt so guilty for them. _'Maybe it's because I made a promise that I couldn't keep...'_ He knew there was more to it than that, but he had bigger concerns at the moment. "We may be able to wait for them, but I still want to keep all options open..."

The rebel nodded slightly and licked lightly at his busted lip. The coppery tang was something else that he was used to, but he had to ignore his injuries so he could attempt to gain more information. "It could be days before they find our position... Exactly what do you plan on doing with me when we get out of this mess...?" he asked, and hoped for an honest answer.

Milliardo had expected the question, and he was still wondering the very same thing. "I've yet to decide that... There are several things that I have to take into consideration before I can really give you an answer..." he muttered while looking away.

Quatre frowned slightly at the way the man was avoiding his gaze. "You're lying... You've already made up your mind..." When he saw the man's eyes close and his jaw set firmly Quatre knew what was going through his mind. "You're going to hand me over to interrogation.. Aren't you...?" The man was silent as he kept his eyes closed, which made Quatre suddenly angry. "Damnit, you can at least look at me and tell me the truth!"

It was the least he could do, so Milliardo sighed deeply and focused his icy glare on the boy. "You want the truth? Fine, I am going to hand you over to interrogation when we're rescued..." he grunted flatly as he attempted to ignore the guilt that was trying to claw at his mind.

Forgetting his injuries, Quatre actually struggled with his restraints as he had his own glare on the older blonde. "I should have expected this from you... All you care about is your own personal vendetta against the world... I have no clue what made me think that there was some decency left in that black pit you call a soul..." he muttered before he sat back in his seat and looked away.

"It's nothing personal against you, Mr. Winner..." Milliardo said defensively. "I have a duty to my men and my cause... I can't just let you go..."

Quatre hardly seemed moved by the man's words. "Yeah, whatever... Take me outside.. I want to get back to work." he grunted flatly.

His ice blue eyes looked on in concern, but Milliardo still stood from his seat. "I thought you wanted to rest...?" he questioned hesitantly. _'I can't really blame him for being angry with me... If our roles were reversed I'd be rather pissed by now...' _he thought to himself as he attempted to figure out what the boy was thinking.

"Yeah, well I don't like the thought of just sitting here waiting for your rescue and my torture... Just take me outside... Or would you rather sit there and gloat about your great capture, Mr. Peacecraft...?" Quatre asked bitterly_. 'Take me out so I can turn the tables, you back stabbing bastard...' _he growled within his mind. At first he had felt guilty about thinking of going through with his plan, but now he had no reservations whatsoever.

The sharp words almost made the man wince, but he frowned deeply and stepped forward. "I'm not gloating about anything... But if that's what you want, then fine... I'll set you to work now..." he muttered as he released the chain that bound the boy to the seat.

Once he was released, Quatre slowly attempted to stand. He winced and hissed sharply in pain when he moved at a certain angle, but he swatted away the offered hand that was held out to him. Ignoring his protesting muscles Quatre forced himself to stand, and took a deep shuddering breath when he was on his feet. He bit his lip hard to keep himself focused as he waited for Milliardo to lead him out the door.

He could tell that the rebel was in pain, and part of him wanted to refuse setting the young soldier back to work. _'But it doesn't really matter.. I've already condemned him anyway... No matter what I tell my troops they'll do whatever's necessary to extract the information we need...' _That guilt from before had returned to chew at his conscious, but he blocked it out of his thoughts as he headed for the hatch. Quietly he led Quatre through the cargo hold by the chain while trying to ignore the soft grunts of pain coming from behind him.

As they reached the opened hatch Quatre saw Benson walking back inside. He glared hard at the smug looking soldier, but he quickly noticed that there was sand all over the man's uniform jacket. _'Looks like he's been digging in the sand... And where's that box he had earlier...?' _he wondered silently as he kept following Milliardo outside into the cooling air.

He knew that the weaselly looking man was up to something, but he was too preoccupied to really give it much thought. He felt so disappointed in Milliardo, and maybe even pity for the confusion that he had seen in the man's eyes lately. _'He's beginning to doubt himself... Maybe I can still get through to him before it's too late...' _he wondered, but the real question was if he would be doing it for the man or to save his own hide.

Meanwhile Milliardo was questioning himself on if he was doing the right thing by deciding to use the boy only to toss him to the proverbial wolves. '_I made a deal with him.. One I never intended to fully keep... Damn it... I'm beginning to act like Treize... Making promises only to keep others pacified until they're no further use to me... Maybe Quatre's right... Maybe I have no decency left in me...' _It was a bitter truth to accept, but Milliardo knew he was turning into the twisted double crossing military extremists that he had been fighting for all these years. _'I've turned into the very thing I've hated for so long... And I don't know if I really care...' _he thought solemnly as he stopped on the sands a few feet away from the tool cart.

As the sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon, Quatre ignored Milliardo as the white fang leader removed the magnetic cuffs from his wrists. His aqua eyes were firmly fixed on the setting sun and his heart felt that familiar warmth that he always had when he felt in tune with his true home in the desert. He knew that he belonged out among the vast sands with his maganac brethren, but until the war was done with he had his duty to fulfill.

When the cuffs were off Quatre rubbed lightly at his aching wrists and kept staring off into the sun set. "Are you really willing to destroy something this beautiful?" he asked in a whisper, although not really expecting an answer.

Milliardo looked at the boy quizzically for a moment before he glanced over in the direction the blonde strategist was fixated on. The sands looked as if they were on fire as the sun seemed to meld with the sand. The sky was ablaze with all ranges of reds, oranges, and pinks until it faded into a dark purple. From the way the sands were shimmering Milliardo could have sworn he was staring at the ocean.

After a moment he shook out of the daze he had fallen into and looked back to his prisoner. "If there is beauty on this blue marble then there's not many who appreciate it. That's what I'm fighting against.. The lying masses that think that because they were born into all this so called beauty they have the right to dictate what others should do. Being from the colonies I would think that you would agree.." he pointed out lightly.

Quatre smiled as his attention was focused only on the sunset. "You couldn't be more wrong, Mr. Peacecraft... The other pilots and I may have defended the colonies, but I for one would not care if I ever stepped foot on them again.. After all the brutality I have witnessed.. After all the battles I have fought in the name of the colonies... My so called home rejected me.. But this place.. The Earth accepted me... Welcomed me warmly with its visions of perfection.." he whispered as he reached out his hand as if he wished to grasp the sunset in his hand.

A deep sigh passed his lips and his bright aqua eyes locked with Milliardo's icy blue ones. "Are you so bent on revenge that you would deny the innocent people that live on this planet the right to live simply because they call this place home?" Quatre asked seriously, searching deep within the man's eyes for anything that showed that maybe he thought differently.

Milliardo looked back into those large expressive eyes, and a million questions struck him, but first he decided to answer his. "There are no innocents any more, Mr. Winner. Everyone is tainted from birth and this planet must be purged in order to start it anew." he stated coldly.

The blonde boy stared deep within the older blonde's eyes, but a smirk slipped onto his face when he saw a flicker of doubt within those cold blue depths. "A soldier's duty is to fight for what he believes in and protect the innocent... If the innocent no longer exist then what are we protecting?" His smirk growing wider, Quatre crossed his arms over his chest. "A soldier is useless unless he is protecting something.. What are you protecting, Mr. Peacecraft? What is your purpose if all that are innocent and defenseless no longer exist? What is it that you really believe, because from what I can see you're only fooling yourself." he said coyly, purposely trying to hit a nerve.

And hit it he did.

A low growl erupted from Milliardo's throat and he reached out to fist his hands in the collar of the boy's jump suit. He lifted the boy a few inches up, forcing the blonde rebel to stand on his toes to keep his balance as he brought their faces dangerously close. "That information is none of your business, Mr. Winner... And I would advise that you not tempt my anger.." he spat out venomously, so tempted to wrap his hand around that slender throat.

Quatre's lips twitched in to a smirk. "That advice might be worth something to me if I was afraid of what you could do to me... But at the moment I really doubt you're willing to cause further harm your only chance at surviving this ordeal..."

He could see that the man was about to protest but he quickly cut him off. "You may have a search party looking for you as we speak, but the desert is vast.. Almost endless... And just like the very men that serve you, the desert has no mercy to its victims... It could be weeks before they find us... A lot can happen within that time, Mr. Peacecraft..." Pleased at the furious expression on the blonde man's face, Quatre smiled and moved his face even closer to Milliardo until they could feel each other's breath against their skin. "I'm not your enemy, Mr. Peacecraft... Not now..." Quatre whispered softly as he reached up and placed his hands on top of Milliardo's.

Milliardo glared hard at the boy, but he could see no fear within his eyes. His intimidation and rigid personality usually commanded attention and reverence within all he encountered, but this boy was different. Even Heero had shown some sign that recognized what the blonde man was capable of, but Quatre was acting as if he were a child throwing a fit. Not knowing whether to be angry or impressed, Milliardo slowly let the boy loosen his grip on his collar, and soon Quatre was standing normally on the sand in front of him.

Straightening his jump suit, Quatre looked calmly at the White fang leader before turning from him and moving to the tools laid out under the shade of the plane.

Knowing that their confrontation had abruptly ended, Milliardo turned away from the boy and made his way towards the cargo hatch. _'Why does it always seem like I'm talking to someone fifty years older than me when I talk to that kid... But it seems too familiar for some reason.. And why the hell can't I stay mad at him...?'_ he wondered silently as he disappeared behind the plane.

When the blonde man was out of sight, Quatre reached into a zipper pocket that was on the leg of his jump suit and pulled out a small watch. "Nine thirty... I have four hours before they will start to doze off... But Milliardo.. Milliardo might be a problem... Hmm..."

He glanced around quickly for a moment and when he saw there was no one around he knelt down onto the cooling sands and rolled up the left pant leg of his jumpsuit. Still glancing around to make sure no one was coming, his scuffed and engine grease covered hand slipped into his left boot. His slender fingers moved around until he felt something protruding from the soft padding. Feeling around some more he was able to push the object that was in the padding upward until it came out of a small hole that was near the top edge of his boot. Once the small object was free, Quatre held it between his index finger and thumb and smirked as he looked at it.

It was a very small clear glass cylinder, no wider than a pencil and about the length of his thumb, filled with a blue tinted liquid. "This will take care of all of them..." He mumbled as he placed the small cylinder into his pocket. He then moved to the tools laid out under the shade of the plane and picked up a large curved piece of metal that he had pried loose from part of the plane. After looking at the way the colors of the sunset reflected off of it for a moment he turned his attention to the sea of sand around him.

He took a deep breath of the fresh air and let it out slowly as he attempted to steel himself for what he was about to do. For a moment he thought about what this would do to Milliardo, but it was clear that the man had made up his mind. "I'll give him one more chance... If he still refuses.. Then I have no choice..." His grip on the metal suddenly tightened as he focused himself to his task. "This is a new low I'm sinking to..." he muttered to himself and he headed for a sand dune on the other side of the plane.

"Allah... Forgive me for what I'm about to do..."

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

DunnDunn Duuun!!

Hell hath no wrath like a Kitty-Q's scorn

What's in store for the next chapter?

Will Quatre make an elaborate escape?

Will Millie pull his head out of his ass long enough to see how hawt forceful Quatre ish?

Will I update more than once a year?!

I dunno

hehe

Arabic translation for this chapter:

**Sufi:** A person part of a religious group called Sufism that is a combination of Muslim and Christianity that focuses on a more spiritual path.

**Kanith:** Fucker

**Khara: **Shit

Later!


	4. Sweet Prince

Hehe, things start gettin steamy in the desert between our two blondes...

Enjoy!

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 4

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

It was getting rather late, but Milliardo was wide awake as he stared off into space thinking of how they were going to survive this ordeal. He himself had extensive survival training, but never in the sort of conditions he was currently under. The moment the plane's electronics gave out he was certain that it would cut down their overall survival chances drastically, if not completely. It seemed like a hopeless situation, especially with the potential threat of the hidden jamming signal that was preventing them from contacting anyone for help.

Milliardo felt helpless, and it was gnawing at him greatly that he was depending so much on the young blonde pilot. Now that Quatre knew of his plans to toss him to his interrogation officers once they were rescued, Milliardo was worried that the boy might attempt to retaliate somehow in order to save himself. And with the vast knowledge that the young soldier possessed on how to survive in the desolate area Milliardo knew that he could easily take off any moment leaving them to fend for themselves.

Which was a thought that almost frightened Milliardo. Dying of thirst or starvation was hardly a pleasing notion, but the fact that his men were slowly beginning to question him worried him greatly. It made his thoughts wander back to something that Quatre had said to him three days ago.

'_There's only one rule in the desert.. And that's to survive...'_

He hadn't taken much note of the statement until now. He could see how his men were slowly becoming angry with him for seeking out the rebel's help, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they turned on him. He knew that one on one he could easily defeat any of them, but together they would likely over power him. _'Probably the only reason that Quatre was even captured... If they hadn't ganged up on him with their sidearms he could have easily killed everyone on this plane...' _It made him frown to think of it, but since he had personally seen Quatre in action on the battle field he was fairly certain that if the boy was at a hundred percent he might have been able to over power him as well. _'Maybe not with brute force, but the kid is smart... He would have figured out a way to get rid of me... He still might...' _

It was beginning to make him paranoid. He knew that Quatre was a resourceful and cunning soldier. Dealing with a person with that kind of skill in an element they were accustomed to usually spelled doom for the enemy. _'If I'm not careful Quatre could have my head on a platter before I could even blink...'_ Even though the boy was injured he wasn't about to underestimate him at this point.

Milliardo soon noticed that his every thought led him straight back to the gundam pilot, and it was confusing him as to why. Yes the boy was intriguing, but there was so little that he understood about the youth. He seemed much older than his apparent fifteen maybe sixteen years. Much more experienced in the ways of the world than what he would expect of a spoiled rich kid. He could only imagine what all had to have happened to the pacifist heir that could have turned him into the vicious fighter he was today. The more he thought about it the more he felt he could almost identify with the boy.

At that moment he shook his head roughly and growled slightly at himself. "He's my prisoner... I'm not supposed to identify with him... Why do I even care...?" he asked the silence around him. When nothing answered him he sighed heavily and slumped in his chair.

He was becoming strung out by everything that was happening, and he wondered how long it would be before the desert would force him to crack as well. "Quatre was right... We could be stuck here for a month... We only have enough supplies to last us another week at the most... If we don't figure out a way out of this Quatre may be the only one that survives this... Now that would be irony..." he muttered to himself as he leaned heavily on the left arm rest of his seat.

"God this is driving me crazy..." Milliardo mumbled as he glanced at his watch. "Two thirty... Hn.. I bet those lazy pilots and half-witted privates are sound asleep..."

"They are."

Startled by the sudden soft voice that answered him, his ice blue eyes shot up and settled on a pair of amused aqua ones. "What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, silently scolding himself silently for not hearing the hatch door opening.

Quatre smirked and held up the nearly empty water bottle that he had brought with him. "You gave me permission to take a break when I needed to, remember?" he said as he moved over to where the refrigerated compartment was.

Frowning deeply, Milliardo nodded slightly and stood as well before going over to stand close to the boy to make sure he wasn't up to anything. "How are things proceeding?" he asked lightly as he reached in the fridge compartment to grab a bottle for himself.

Not answering at first, Quatre took a long drink from his water bottle then sighed deeply. "Not good, really... Without the right kind of fuel the engines will be useless to us... I haven't checked the ones on the right side of the plane yet, but I'm fairly certain it will show the same problems." he stated as he glanced out the right side plane windows towards the wing and engines.

"Is there anything that you can do?" Milliardo asked solemnly. The situation seemed to be getting worse by the minute, and he was beginning to feel that sense of helplessness creeping on him again.

Quatre looked at the White Fang leader for a moment and couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Despite all that had happened over the course of the day Quatre still felt attracted to the man. Part of him wanted to help, to give him one last chance to change his mind. "Well.. There is one thing... If we drain the fuel tanks and gather all unnecessary items from the plane we can create a signal fire if we can't find the source of the jamming signal." he offered as he ran his finger along the side of his plastic bottle.

Milliardo grunted softly at that and rolled his eyes. "A signal fire? God, this all too low tech for my tastes..." he muttered as he opened his water bottle and took a large gulp of its contents.

That actually made the boy laugh. "Hey, we have to make due with what we have. If we can get the fire going good enough the smoke will be visible for miles around. If there is a search team looking for you they'll see it." Quatre pointed out plainly as he dumped the contents of his old water bottle into his fresh one.

"That isn't very comforting... We'd have to make it in the middle of the day, and the heat is barely tolerable as it is without making an over sized bon fire..." Milliardo grumbled. He moved stiffly back to his seat and sat his opened bottle on the small table next to him.

A small smile slipped onto Quatre's lips as he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Wow.. For the brutal leader of the White Fang you sure hate getting dirty." he quipped in the hopes to strike another nerve.

"I swear if I didn't need you I would have splattered your brains across the cargo hold when I found you..." Milliardo snapped dangerously.

Quatre's expression suddenly turned almost evil as he slowly approached the blonde man. Once he was close enough he sat his bottle to the left of Milliardo's on the table. "Hmm.. You're so eloquent, my dear Mr. Peacecraft... But unfortunately for you..." he nearly purred while he slowly slipped behind the man's seat. "You do need me... And you do realize that our... Partnership doesn't have to be so... Impersonal..." he whispered as he slowly placed his slender hands on the clearly tense shoulders of the older blonde.

Milliardo frowned deeply, but didn't move away from the boy's touch. "If you're attempting to lower my guard you're doing a very poor job of it." he stated flatly.

"Tsk tsk... Mr. Peacecraft, I want you on your guard..." At that moment Quatre slowly leaned forward and barely let his lips brush against the man's ear as he spoke. "You know as well as I do.. That the only thrill left for people like us is the element of danger... Knowing that we're risking our lives..."

Having to suppress the shudder that was trying to wrack through his body, Milliardo gripped tightly at the arm rests of his seat and attempted to figure out what the boy was playing at. "Is that so, Mr. Winner? And what makes you think I'm like that?" he asked in as steady a voice he could manage.

Knowing that he had him, Quatre let his tongue slip past his lips and gently trace along the outer edges of Milliardo's ear. "It's a common thing amongst soldiers that survived the front lines for extended periods of time... They become so addicted to the adrenaline that is pumped into their system... That they seek bigger and more dangerous challenges to get to that state of emotional high..." Quatre explained softly as his hands firmly began to rub at Milliardo's shoulders. "And I know that is why you left Ms. Noin behind..." he added to fuel the fire.

The loud growl was the only warning Quatre got before he found a strong grip around his throat once more. Milliardo's icy blues filled Quatre's vision as he was nearly slammed against the hard metal wall of the plane. "Do not speak to me about her... You have no idea what you're talking about..." he snarled as his fingers tightened around the pale throat.

Quatre coughed harshly and struggled lightly, not really trying to escape the man's grip. "That.. That's not... What she told me... Told me that she couldn't satisfy your needs..." he called out hoarsely as he gripped at the hand clutched around his throat.

Milliardo's eyebrow arched upward as he leaned in close to the boy's face. "And you're saying you can.." he stated rather than asked. The aqua eyes were swirling with lust instead of panic, which confused and intrigued him.

"Maybe..." Quatre whispered as his tongue slowly trailed across Milliardo's lower lip.

The gentle wet sensation made chills travel down his spine, but Milliardo growled deeply and was tempted to tighten his hold on Quatre's throat. "If you're trying to distract me you're not doing a very good job..." he stated, although it wasn't exactly the truth.

And Quatre knew it. "I'm not trying to distract you..." he mumbled. _'Because I already have...' _he thought evilly as he glanced down at both their bottles on the table.

He turned his attention back towards the man glaring at him and let his hands wander over the man's firm chest through the thin t shirt. He could tell that Milliardo was enjoying the touch, and he was curious as to what he could get away with. "Mr. Peacecraft... What could I possibly do..? I'm at your mercy... My life is in your hands.." he whispered as he leaned forward.

Milliardo knew what Quatre wanted to do, and to his own astonishment he allowed the bruised lips to press against his own. At first he barely registered the fact he was kissing the gundam pilot, but once he felt Quatre's lips part he suddenly didn't care. He released the hold he had on the boy's throat and pinned his shoulders to the metal wall. As he pressed himself tightly against Quatre's smaller frame he could hear and feel the slight groan of pain when pressure was placed on the youth's stomach.

In the back of his mind he knew that this wasn't right, that something was very out of place, but the nails he felt scraping down his back made him forget all of it. He had fallen under some sort of spell that was making the once curiosity towards the rebel turn into a borderline lust. A lust he wanted to give into more than anything at that moment.

Quatre knew he was playing dirty by using his empathy to strengthen Milliardo's emotions, but he was too busy to really care. To feel the rock solid body pressed against him so tightly nearly made his head swim with his own desire. His hands found their way under the red shirt the man wore, and raked his nails down the soft skin. The growling moan he heard and felt deep within the man's chest thrilled him. Knowing that Milliardo liked it a bit rough encouraged him to double his response to the bruising kiss they were locked in.

In the midst of the frenzy, Milliardo found his hands working on pulling the zipper down on the youth's jumpsuit. Slowly the gray jumpsuit opened, and his hands made quick work of pushing it off the slender shoulders. Soon the upper half of the filthy jumpsuit was out of the way, revealing the white shirt Quatre wore beneath it.

Suddenly having a need to see more of the pale skin, Milliardo tugged up the hem of the shirt and was pleased when Quatre readily held up his arms to remove it. Tugging it off, he carelessly threw the shirt over his shoulder and let his eyes look over the revealed flesh. He instantly saw the angry bruises the marred the softly defined muscles of the Arabian's torso. His fingers ghosted along the injured flesh, and the moans that it pulled from Quatre's lips fascinated him. Curious, he pressed a bit firmer against one of the darker bruises.

The pain that came from the touch made Quatre gasp deeply, but instead of pulling away he actually leaned towards it. He has always had a bit of a masochistic streak in him, and rubbing firmly at any bruises always made his heart race. "Nnn.. Mr. Peacecraft..." he moaned softly.

Hearing his name spoken in such abandon made Milliardo's blood heat up considerably. Unable to resist those parted lips, he dove in for another kiss as his hands kept torturing the bruises on the slender body. His actions seemed to double Quatre's responses to him, which in turn made him want more as well. When the bare arms wrapped around his shoulders and a long leg hooked around his thigh Milliardo found himself gripping firmly at the younger blonde's legs and bringing them up to his hips. To his pleasure the legs wrapped firmly around his waist and held on for dear life.

Clinging firmly to his enemy, Quatre groaned deeply against Milliardo's lips. This was going far better than he could have wished for. He kept his empathy steadily increasing the emotions that Milliardo was desperately trying to keep under control. He wanted the White Fang leader to let go of his reservations and doubts, and just open himself to the possibilities they were delving into. The thick emotions that were coiled so tightly within the depths of the man's heart were just begging for someone to come by and cut the ropes of uncertainty that restrained them.

Quatre was nearly becoming intoxicated with how pure and strong Milliardo's different feelings were. He knew they could easily be molded to change the way the man saw the world, but he was never one to manipulate another like that. Merely let them get a taste of what they fought so hard to keep hidden. And Milliardo's emotions were deeply buried under years of pain and loss. _'Need to show him that he can't keep himself from feeling anything... Need to show him it's okay to let go..'_ That was Quatre's goal for this mission, to make Milliardo see clearly through his heart, not his head.

His thoughts were a shambles as he kept his hands wandering and exploring over the young responsive body he had pinned to the wall. Milliardo was still wondering how he even got to this point, but he honestly didn't care. He had let himself be starved of any sort of contact for such a long time that his reactions were stronger than he could have imagined. Quatre tore away from their kiss to gasp out his name when he had rubbed another bruise, and the exposed throat was just to tempting to pass up. His mouth kissed and bit firmly along the graceful neck, and soon he felt a pair of hands fisting lightly in his hair followed by moaned words of encouragement.

"Mr. Peacecraft... Don't stop... More.." Quatre groaned shamelessly as he tangled his fingers in the long pale locks.

This was what he had been fantasizing about since he had first gotten the mission. To be this close to the deadly White Fang leader and to feel what the brutal soldier was capable of in a fit of passion. All he needed to do was just push the man just a little further before he could have what he wanted, but he knew that Milliardo had to make that decision for himself. _'I won't manipulate him like that...'_ his clouded thoughts called out weakly as he withdrew his hold on the man's senses completely.

After a few seconds of thinking nothing but how good it felt to have the rebel pinned and so willing, Milliardo's thoughts slowly cleared. Soon he couldn't remember how he had even gotten into this position, or why his lips were still working along the reddened throat. _'Wha... What am I doing..?' _his mind thought in alarm.

He quickly pulled away from the too tempting flesh and looked into the lust glazed aqua eyes. "What are you doing...?" he asked while trying to regain his breath and wits.

A bit disheartened that Milliardo was fighting the feelings that were still straining to be free, Quatre moved his hand to caress the pale man's face. "Trying to give myself to your mercy... Please, Mr. Peacecraft... Things can be different if you only let them... We can help one another in so many ways... But I need your help first..." he whispered as he attempted to make himself appear as innocent as he could manage.

He looked into the glimmering eyes for a long moment, but eventually Milliardo snorted and glared hard at the boy. "If there's one thing I've learned it's that you gundam pilots are never helpless.." he grunted while swatting the small hand away from his face roughly. "You have some sort of plan forming behind that innocent facade... And I'm not about to fall for it."

Roughly pushing the gray clad thighs from his hips, Milliardo pulled away from the boy and pointed rigidly towards the hatch that lead to the cargo hold. "Now get back to work... Before I reconsider our agreement..."

An almost disappointed look fell over the young blonde's face as he moved away from the wall. "If you insist, Mr. Peacecraft..." Quatre sighed as he grabbed the bottle off the right side of the table and walked to the door. After he retrieved his shirt from the floor near the hatch he glanced back at his captor. "Just remember... My offer stands if you have a change of heart..." He then quietly opened the hatch and was about to leave when a thought struck him. "That is if you still have one.." he added before disappearing behind the large metal door.

Milliardo could only stare at the hatch door for a moment, but he then pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve a slowly approaching headache. "I don't know which is worse... The fact he isn't intimidated by me.. Or the fact I'm actually tempted by his offer..." he muttered loudly to himself as he picked up the bottle of water still on the table and took a large gulp.

He then stood there for a moment as he tried to figure out what exactly came over him. He had never felt that strong of an attraction to anyone before. What was worse is that he actually enjoyed it. His heart still hadn't slowed from the passionate moment that he had been lost in for what felt like hours. It made him curious if he really should accept the boy's proposal.

"I can't do that... It's insane... Why.. Why am I even thinking like this...? And.. Why am I so tired...?" Suddenly overcome by a wave of fatigue, Milliardo dropped into a seat and looked on in a daze at his water bottle. "What the..." It was then that he saw the water within the plastic bottle had an unusual blue tint to it. "That little... bastard..." he whispered as the bottle slid from his grasp and fell to the floor.

The splashing sound echoed within the quiet cabin, and it was soon followed by the sound of the hatch opening once more. Milliardo's pale eyes sluggishly glanced upward to see a very pleased smirk gracing the pale face of the young blonde rebel. "I knew... That you'd pull something like this.." he grunted, but there was no force behind the words since his energy was quickly leaving him.

The smirk was almost sinister as Quatre shook his head in amusement. "Of course, but fortunately for me you were too slow to act upon that correct assumption... You should have accepted my offer, Mr. Peacecraft... Had you done so I wouldn't have had to resort to such foul tactics.. But you understand... It's nothing personal against you..." he said in a mocking tone to mimic the words spoken to him earlier.

Milliardo wanted to growl and pounce on the impudent boy, but he could barely keep his eyes open. "When I get my hands on you..." he mumbled, but he wasn't able to finish when a soft laughter cut him off.

"My dear Mr. Peacecraft... I don't think you are in much of a position to be threatening me..." Gracefully, Quatre walked over to where the white fang leader was nearly asleep. He stood in front of the man, and had to admit it was a good feeling to have the infamous man under his power. "Now you'll understand what it's like to have your life in someone else's hand, dear prince..."

A weak snort left the man as he tried to force himself to move. "Like.. Like you're the first.. To toy with my life..." Milliardo muttered with as much anger as he could get out. His body was nearly paralyzed, and his senses were becoming fogged.

Quatre's expression turned into a sweet smile as he moved closer to the drugged man. Since the White Fang leader couldn't put up a resistance he casually straddled the man's lap and gently took Milliardo's face into his hands. "I'm well aware that I'm not the first.. But I'm certain that no one else has ever been able to capture you so fully..." He let his tongue lick up a bead of sweat that was rolling down the flushed cheek. "Mmm.. I can do whatever I please to you and your beautiful body, Mr. Peacecraft... And there's nothing you can do to stop me..." he whispered as he placed tender kisses along the man's jaw.

Milliardo clenched his teeth and was close to panicking when he realized that the boy was right. He was powerless to do anything. His arms felt heavy at his sides, and his legs refused to budge no matter how hard he strained to move them.

He could barely feel the lips that were still moving across his face, or the sharp teeth that nipped at his ear. "You.. You staged everything.. You... You came on to me.. To raise my heart rate.. So the drugs would react faster..." he gasped out, his heart still racing due to the dire situation he was locked in.

Chuckling softly into the man's ear, Quatre run his fingers through the long tresses while humming in amusement. "Mmm.. You catch on very quickly, Mr. Peacecraft... However it does you little good now... The rest of your men will be asleep for hours... So I can take my time with you..." He pulled away so he could look into the glazed fearful eyes watching him. "And that's if I haven't disposed of them already... In that case I may have all the time in the world..."

His expression turned wicked as he traced the strong jaw line with his finger. "You really should have joined me, Mr. Peacecraft... I would have been yours quite willingly... Now you're mine... Tell me.. How does it feel to know you're completely helpless, hm..?" he purred before placing a kiss to his lips.

Fear was now creeping into Milliardo's thoughts the longer he stared into the evilly shining eyes. When Quatre pulled away from his lips he let out a weak growl that sounded more like a faint whimper. "And you.. You say I'm the monster... You're.. Wanting to rape me..."

The words combined with the growing fear in the man's eyes made Quatre feel suddenly horrible for what he was doing. _'But he's no saint either...' _he reminded himself firmly. "Hn... And you wanted to give me to your interrogation officers... Last time I checked sexual abuse was still a common method of torture.. Especially with factions that refuse to obey the codes of conduct..." He leaned back and delivered a sharp slap to Milliardo's face.

The man's head snapped to the side as the hit echoed within the cabin. Quatre then firmly grabbed hold of the bruising jaw and made the face look at him. "You don't betray a person you make a private accord with, Mr. Peacecraft. That's just despicable..." he growled, now letting some of that anger he had kept hidden show.

Although the drugs dulled his senses, Milliardo still felt the pain from the hit and clenched his jaw as tight as he could. He wanted to argue, but Quatre was right. He had been the one to go back on his word first. The moment he had done that their agreement had been shattered. _'I... I can't blame him for wanting to retaliate... I'd do the same..'_ his mind thought sluggishly.

Quatre could tell that any moment the man would fall under the drug's full effects, and soon he'd be out cold. "Hn.. You're not going to last much longer... Pity.. I had hoped you'd be awake longer... Oh well... I'll just have to push my plans further ahead of schedule..." he mused more to himself.

"Plans..?" Milliardo repeated apprehensively.

"Heh.. It's nothing you should concern yourself with, Mr. Peacecraft.." Quatre smiled once more and pressed their foreheads together. "You'll have absolutely no knowledge of anything I do the moment you fall asleep... So I'll leave it to your imagination what I'll be up to..." He gently caressed the red mark on the otherwise flawless face and sighed deeply. "Such a pity you insist on being so difficult... I could have made it worth your while... I still can... But that will have to wait..."

Suddenly the young Arabian moved off Milliardo's lap and stood straight. "I have work to do before I can play..." Quatre said lightly as he moved to the seat next to the drugged man. He picked up the laptop that was resting in the seat and placed it in the crook of his right arm. "I'll take this back, thank you." he snickered in amusement.

With the laptop tucked away back in his possession, Quatre reached out and cupped his hand under Milliardo's chin. "Don't worry.. You'll be fine after a few hours... Maybe..." For a moment Quatre gazed deeply into the drug hazed eyes and felt guilty for what he was doing, but he forced the feelings aside while smirking at his helpless victim.

When he saw it would only be seconds before the man blacked out, Quatre tilted the man's chin up and leaned in close. "Mmm... I'll be back for you... Goodnight sweet prince..." he whispered before he tenderly pressed his lips to Milliardo's once more in a soft kiss.

Milliardo wanted to fight. To take back control and regain custody of the gundam pilot, but he could barely feel the kiss, let alone put up any sort of resistance. His slowly fading mind concluded it must have been a strong form of tranquilizer, and briefly considered it might even be a poison of some kind. After his own betrayal he wouldn't have put it past the boy to take out his revenge quickly and leave his corpse to fry under the desert sun.

With the notion that his death could very well be at hand, Milliardo felt unbidden tears bite sharply at his eyes at the humiliation of it all. _'So this is it... This is the end of my mission.. My life... All because of this boy... A boy...'_ he thought as he slowly drifted into a deep sleep.

The last thing he saw was the glow of those shimmering aqua eyes that followed him into the dark oblivion.

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

Oh dear...

Poor Millie...

Later!


	5. Touche

Ohnoes!

What's going to befall our heros in this latest installment?!

I dunno, read and find out for me.

Enjoy!

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 5

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

"_Quit denying what you're feeling, Milliardo... You know you can't lie to me..."_

"I'm not lying to anyone! There's nothing there! I'm not feeling anything!"

"_That's a lie and you know it..."_

"He's my enemy, I'm not supposed to feel anything! I'm supposed to eliminate him!"

'_Then why did you kiss him?"_

"I... He kissed me!"

"_You didn't pull away."_

"I..."

"_See? You know that I'm telling the truth..."_

"I don't know anything... Not anymore..."

"_You're just angry because he reminds you of him."_

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

"_And we go straight back to the lies... When are you going to quit hiding?"_

"I'm not hiding!"

"_Yes you are. That's all you do. Hide and plot until you feel comfortable enough to act."_

"Just shut up!"

"_And you lash out when you feel like things are going out of your control. You've gotten so predictable."_

"Go away! I don't need you lecturing me!" Gripping at his hair tightly, Milliardo gritted his teeth and attempted to block the chiding voice out of his head. "Leave me alone damn it!" he growled as he tried to work his way through the fog of confusion in his mind.

"_How can I? You created me.. Created me for revenge against your enemies. And ever since you've gotten it you've been like a lost child trying to find his way home."_

Milliardo shook his head stubbornly before he looked up at the one causing him so much irritation. "I'm not lost! I have an entire army at my command! A cause that they're willing to give their lives for!"

The shadowed figure let out a deep chuckle before stepping forward into the light. _"You don't even believe in what you doing.. Quatre was right about everything... You're only fooling yourself." _

Staring at his own reflection in the silver mask the figure wore, Milliardo wanted to protest, but he found that he couldn't. "I don't have any feelings for him..." he insisted weakly before looking away from the smirk that was on the pale lips.

"_You're just afraid... You felt the same thing around Treize, and now you're convinced that the same thing will happen all over again... That if you take that risk Quatre will sacrifice you just like Treize did..." _the masked man said while he lightly dusted off the red uniform jacket he wore.

"Don't say that name around me!" Milliardo snapped sharply.

A sadistic grin suddenly appeared on the soldier's face. _"Treize... Treize Treize Treize... What's wrong, Milliardo? You used to love saying his name..."_ he jeered with a sharp laugh.

"I said stop it!"

The masked man chuckled and folded his arms over his chest. _"Poor little Milliardo... Always betrayed by the ones he loves... You haven't even admitted that you're beginning to like Quatre and he's already betrayed you... Oh wait... I almost forgot... You betrayed him first."_

That made Milliardo freeze and glare hard at his double. "I haven't betrayed anyone!"

"_Oh but you have... You even admitted it to Quatre... You said yourself that you were going to hand him over to interrogation once you were rescued. You knew damn well the torture they would put him through, but you decided to do it anyway. Even after all the help Quatre's offered to you... Just think about it... Quatre beaten for hours at a time with no rest..." _

Before Milliardo had a chanced to reply another form appeared in the darkness. When he saw who it was he nearly choked. Strapped to a chair unconscious was the broken and bleeding form of Quatre. Blood was seeping from the numerous gashes all along his rag covered body, and it looked as if both his legs had been broken. There was so much blood that Milliardo nearly gagged and forced himself to look away. "That's not real.. None of this is real..." he muttered as he desperately tried to ignore the smell of burnt flesh.

The masked soldier chuckled lightly as he walked over to the unmoving boy. _"Who's to say this isn't real.. Are you implying this wouldn't happen if you handed Quatre over to your men like a sacrificial lamb...?" _When Milliardo didn't answer the soldier knelt beside the chair the barely breathing rebel was restrained to and hummed softly_. "Hmm.. I wonder how much more this poor creature can take... He's put up quite a resistance... Although it's hard to expect anything less from a gundam pilot... But I wonder how many more hits he can take before it finally kills him..." _The mask turned towards the shaking blonde man while another smirk formed on his face. _"What do you think, Milliardo? I'm thinking ten more should finish him off."_

"I don't care! This isn't real!" Milliardo shouted as he refused to look at the horrid sight.

"_That's just it, Milliardo.. This may be a dream, but it could easily become a reality..." _The soldier stood and gently reached out to tilt the blood covered face upward. _"What I want to know is if it's a reality you can willingly accept..." _The masked man pulled away from the bloodied face only to rear back his fist.

Milliardo's eyes shot open when he heard the sharp thud of a fist hitting flesh and the weak cry of pain that followed it. Finally turning around, Milliardo watched numbly as his other half delivered another punch to Quatre's face. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"_I'm seeing if my guess was right... Only eight more to go..."_ the lightning count muttered before giving an upper cut to the nearly broken jaw. The punch had so much force behind it that it almost tilted the chair when Quatre's head snapped back.

"Please stop... Please.." a broken voice whimpered as Quatre's head lolled forward. He didn't have the strength to lift his head, but Milliardo could still see the red tinted tears falling from the swollen shut eyes.

"You're killing him!" Milliardo shouted when the soldier gave a punch to the boy's gut.

Watching the blood that was forced out of the boy's mouth splatter on his red stained gloves, the masked figure chuckled sinisterly_. "What do you care? He's your enemy, there for he must be eliminated..." _He roughly forced up the barely recognizable face and sighed in disappointment. _"Looks like I over estimated him.. One more should finish him..." _

"Milliardo... Help.. Please..." Quatre gasped out helplessly as more blood ran down his face.

The lightning count laughed harshly and reared back his fist one last time. _"Foolish boy.. Don't you know...? He doesn't give a damn about you..."_

Milliardo knew that this shot would kill the boy, and his heart nearly tore in two when he heard Quatre still begging for his help. "No! Stop this now!"

"_It's too little too late, Milliardo. Say good bye to your enemy..."_

"NO! QUATRE!"

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

"QUATRE!"

Bolting up, Milliardo's eyes shot open and looked around wildly when he couldn't remember where he was. When he saw that he was still in the plane he slumped forward in his seat and attempted to regain control of his wildly beating heart. His mind was foggy, and he had no clue why he had a splitting headache at that moment. Placing his hand against his forehead, he slowly tried to gather his wits and attempt to recall what had happened before he went to sleep.

For a moment all he could think of were fragments of the horrible nightmare he had just woken from. It disturbed him greatly the parts he could remember, but soon a vision of bright aqua eyes filled his mind, and the gentle caress of a pair of lips against his own. "Quatre.. Kissed me?.. What else happened... Or was that a dream too...?"

He couldn't tell if what his mind was showing him was true or not. When he glanced at the seat next to him he was relieved to see the laptop still sitting there. His pale eyes then glanced out the windows towards the plane engine, and he couldn't help but sigh when he saw the familiar sight of the young pilot halfway buried in it, working diligently.

"So.. It was a dream... He.. He didn't drug me... None of that was real..." he whispered, but soon frowned deeply when he actually felt disappointed. "No... I can't be feeling that way towards him.. He's my enemy..." Slowly he lifted his fingers to his lips and thought once more of the soft kiss. "Damn it.. This is absurd..." he chided himself before looking at his watch. "Almost eight am... Better get him back in before the temperature starts to rise." he mumbled as he slowly made his way outside.

As he walked through the cargo hold he discovered the soldiers and the pilots were strewn about their card table snoring rather loudly. The sight almost disgusted him at how lazy they were acting, but he pushed that thought aside as he walked down the loading hatch. The air was very cool, almost chilly. Milliardo was tempted to rub at his arms for warmth, but he ignored the temperature to continue on his course.

Soon he was standing beneath the wing of the plane where the gundam pilot was tethered, and looked up as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Time to come inside, Mr. Winner." Milliardo called out as he tried to focus his eyes in the faint dawn lights.

Seconds passed, but young rebel made no move to come down. Frowning, Milliardo was about to call out again when he noticed something as his eyes finally became used to the light. "Wait... He's not even moving..." he mumbled when he saw that the only movement was being caused by the slightly shifting winds.

"Maybe he fell asleep.." Milliardo whispered as he kept waiting, but soon that thought was cast aside when he caught something out of place.

Over by the tool cart was where the young rebel had tied part of the rope used in his pulley system to act as a counter weight so he wouldn't fall if something came loose in the rest of the rigging. But what caught Milliardo's eye was that the rope he used to hoist and lower himself from the engine was tied to the cart as well, leaving no way for the blonde to get down. _'How in the world did that happen.. Did the guards do it to him?' _he wondered as he moved quickly to the cart to untie the rope. Once the rope was freed Milliardo also released the counter balance rope in order to get the boy down.

As he was doing this he was beginning to worry how the boy hadn't moved at all. _'Why hasn't he moved...? Could the guards have killed him during the night...?'_ That thought made his blood run cold, so he hurried his efforts to get the boy down.

The moment he attempted to move the boy from the engine the tethered body suddenly slipped from it's perch and began falling. Milliardo reacted quickly to grab at the counter balance rope and gritted his teeth when the force of the still moving rope cut into his palms. "Damn it.. He's heavier than I remember.." he grunted as he tried to hold on to the rope. When he finally had a good grip on the rope Milliardo looked back to check on the boy.

Instead of the gundam pilot he expected to see, he was staring right into the filthy and sunken face of a dead man. "My god..." Milliardo whispered in alarm.

Almost sickened, the rope slipped from Milliardo's grasp. He watched in a daze as the corpse fell to the sand in a heap, all the limbs bending at horribly unnatural angles. The stench of the corpse was almost enough to make him retch, but he was able to hold back that urge as he staggered away from the bloated rotting flesh. His mind was suddenly blank at the sight of the stiff that was dressed in the gray jumpsuit that belonged to the young Arabian. At first he couldn't even recognize the dead man, but soon he realized that it was Akio Herclin, the guard whom he and the others buried almost four days ago

Milliardo was in a state of shock for several long moments as he attempted to process what was in front of him. He had no idea how long the corpse had been shoved in the engine, or how Quatre had managed to get it up there in the first place, but one thing was for certain. "He used this as a decoy... But where is he...? Did he raid the supplies and take off like he said he could...?" Ignoring the dead body crumpled on the sand, Milliardo ran back to the cargo hatch and headed straight for the passenger cabin.

Once he was back in the passenger cabin he moved over to the fridge compartment and looked inside to take a quick inventory. "There's only one bottle missing... So he couldn't have set off on a long journey on only one bottle... That means he'll be back..." he worked out aloud.

However things still didn't add up. "But why would he set up all of this just to come back...?" It was then his thoughts drifted to one of the last things he saw before he blacked out the night before. "The laptop!"

He nearly pounced on the dormant laptop that was still in the seat, and instantly turned it on to check his hunch. As he expected, once the device started everything was in English. It was the lap top that the pilots had kept in the cockpit.

He looked away from the screen and stared out into space as he let everything register. "It wasn't a dream..." he whispered as he realized the passionate kisses had been real.

The awe quickly turned to anger though as a deep growl rumbled in his chest. "Damn little bastard... Drugged the entire crew and switched clothes with that dead guard in case they woke up to buy him more time..." he concluded, letting the laptop fall carelessly from his grasp.

The loud crash it made as it struck the floor went unnoticed as Milliardo attempted to think of what the blonde might have done. "What would he do with the laptop out there with the intention of returning..."

When his eyes glanced down at the broken laptop on the floor he figured it out. "The jamming signal... He must be trying to get out of the signal's range to contact his comrades.. And, when they come to pick him up, capture me in the process..." he whispered to himself before letting a smirk tug at his lips. "Clever boy, but I won't let him get away with it... I need to get that guard back in the engine." he muttered as he swiftly ran back out of the cabin to get to work.

He would have to be fast in order for his plan to succeed.

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

The sun was getting higher as a lone figure was trudging across the desert slowly. The uniform that he was wearing was filthy and too long for his frame, but this didn't matter as long as it kept the brutal sun off his skin. It seemed like he had been walking forever, but he knew he couldn't stop to rest. He had to get back to the shelter of the plane before the mid day hours closed upon him.

His tired Aqua eyes glanced over to the water bottle in his hand. He was tempted to drink what little was left, but he stopped himself and forced himself onward. He was boiling in the constraining uniform, but he couldn't remove any of it in fear of becoming too dehydrated. _'I'm cutting things too close... If I don't make it back soon I'm going to have a heat stroke... I should have paced myself better... Injuries are catching up with me...'_ he thought wearily.

He had wasted too much time stressing over too many details back at the plane before he left. Cleaning up the spilt water and switching clothes with the dead guard was one thing, but spending almost fifteen minutes holding a cold compress to the mark he had made on Milliardo's face had been overkill.

'_I couldn't leave it alone... It would have bruised noticeably...'_ he thought in a lame attempt to convince himself. In truth he felt like a monster for being so cruel to the man. He knew he went too far messing with Milliardo's mind like that, but his anger had gotten the better of him.

"I... I have a feeling... That... That I'm gonna pay for it..." he mumbled to himself.

If Milliardo remembered any of it when he awoke it probably would ruin any hopes of them getting through this civilly. Quatre was still hoping that things could be salvaged between them somehow, but things were bleak as it was. Help was coming soon though, so there was a chance of being able to talk some sense into the White Fang leader.

When he could see the plane off in the distance it encouraged him to move faster. His ribs were aching softly in complaint of the excess of activity, and he head was beginning to swim and throb from being over heated. He was coming close to the breaking point, and if he didn't get out of the sun soon he was going to become dangerously ill.

It seemed like another hour before he got close enough to the plane to see the dead body hanging from the engine. However Quatre was too thrilled to see the shade below the plane to care about the corpse. He wanted nothing more than to lay down in it and rest, but he still had work to do before he would be in the clear.

Once he stood beneath the shade of the plane he breathed a sigh of relief as he tore the bandanas he had found among the cargo off of his head and face. The first thing he did once his head was free of the cloth was open up his water bottle and drink the last bit of water he had. A little relieved once his mouth and throat didn't feel as dry as the desert around him, Quatre then moved to the ropes that were still secured to the tool cart.

Just as he was about to untie the ropes and lower his decoy he noticed something out of place. "Wait... This isn't the knot that I used to tie this here..." he muttered before his eyes grew wide.

But his realization came too late as he felt the all too familiar sensation of a gun barrel being pressed firmly against his back. "You're very observant, Mr. Winner... Too bad you noticed it too late.. Now turn around." a deep voice grunted out.

Slowly Quatre raised his hands in surrender and turned around to be greeted by a pair of cold blue eyes that were filled with anger. He said nothing as he stared back into those eyes. Briefly he wondered if they would be the last thing he would see.

Seeing that the boy wasn't going to offer any explanation, Milliardo kept his sidearm aimed at the boy's chest as he tossed the restraints on the ground next to him. "Put them on.. Now." he ordered firmly, ready to shoot the boy at the slightest hint of revolt.

Without a sound Quatre picked up the restraints and placed them on his own wrists. When they were locked into place he saw the white fang leader pointing rigidly at the chain that was near the tool cart. The blonde boy picked up the chain, half tempted to use it to escape, but he knew that the man would have pulled the trigger before he had time to move. So without protest he held out the chain with his bound hands and watched in a detached sense of wonder. _'I could have sworn that drug would have kept him out for at least two more hours... Oh well, if he doesn't kill me I won't be around much longer anyway.'_ he smirked mentally.

Milliardo saw the slight twitching of the blonde's lips and knew what he must be thinking. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Mr. Winner... I know that you took your laptop and set up this little scene so you could carry it out of the range of the jamming signal to call for help." He thoroughly enjoyed the look of shock that filled those expressive eyes, and decided to go on. "And when they arrive I don't think they'll do anything too rash when they discover I have you locked up under gunpoint..." he stated calmly, too calmly for Quatre's tastes.

Quatre knew that he was right, and tried to hold back his increasing fear for his comrades that would be arriving soon. "Touché, Mr. Peacecraft..." he grunted, willingly admitting that he had been bested.

And that simple phrase made a smirk cross the pale man's face as if he had won the entire war at that very moment. _'Looks like I've finally beaten him...' _he mused to himself.

But his moment was short lived when one of the guards came stumbling out of the plane and running clumsily across the sands. "Mr. Peacecraft!" he called out frantically as he got closer.

On seeing the desperate look on Benson's face Milliardo almost groaned. "What is it, Benson?" he asked, tired of receiving bad news from him.

Benson was jittery, and pointed back towards the hatch as he spoke. "B-both the pilots are dead, sir." he stammered out.

"What?!" Milliardo exclaimed before he glared hard at his prisoner.

But Quatre was just as astonished as he was. "I didn't kill them!" he cried out in defense as he looked back at the private that was still standing there.

"He's lying, sir!" another voice shouted, soon followed by the man that Quatre had bitten when he had first gotten capture.

When the guard was standing next to Benson he spoke out. "When we woke up we thought they were still asleep, but when we moved them we found knife wounds in their chests and bloodied rags and a dagger hidden in the compartment he had stowed away in!" he exclaimed while glaring at the young pilot as well.

On hearing that Milliardo growled viciously and shoved the boy to the ground. "Decided to kill off my pilots for revenge... And so we wouldn't be able to use any air craft your rescuers would bring.. How clever of you..." he spat out venomously as he dealt a swift kick to the boy's side.

Quatre cried out in pain and curled up in a protective gesture. He was unable to regain enough composure to right himself due to his exhaustion. "I.. I didn't..." he coughed out weakly only to receive another kick to his back.

"And now you're lying.. It never ends with you, does it..." Milliardo growled as he tossed the chain to the guard with the bandaged hand. "Take him back inside to the passenger cabin and tie him up... Use whatever force you deem necessary, just as long as he's alive." he added as an extra punishment for the boy's betrayal.

The two guards smirked and soon Quatre was being dragged roughly through the sands towards the loading hatch. The boy gasped and coughed harshly as the hot sand spilled over his face and clothes, but he was still able to look one last time at the blonde man. "I didn't kill them!" he cried out once more before he disappeared into the plane.

Milliardo watched the boy vanish into the plane, and took a deep breath as he glanced at the corpse hanging over head. He was still furious at how the boy went behind his back, but...

But for some reason he wanted to believe him.

In the plane Quatre was harshly drug through the cargo hold. His battered body struck various crates and boxes as they passed, but his cries of pain fell on deaf ears. He wanted to struggle, but he was thrown off balance and his head was swimming from the heat and the abuse. _'What can I do...? I'm too weak to put up a decent fight...'_ he thought before he was roughly shoved into the passenger cabin.

The moment he landed on the floor he felt another boot slamming hard against his side. He arched his back and let out a gasping cry, but it was cut short when a hand fisted in his hair. Drug to his feet by the tight grip in his hair, Quatre gritted his teeth tightly and was forced to look straight into Benson's brown eyes.

"Heh.. Who's nothing now...?" Benson asked in a mocking laugh.

But Quatre let out a laugh of his own as his smirk quickly returned. "Still you... Sniveling coward... I noticed you people only pick a fight with me if I'm either injured or tied up... So much for the brave members of the White Fang, huh? Won't even fight a boy fairly... Gah!" The fist that plowed into his stomach made him choke harshly, but he could barely regain his breath before he felt a hand gripping tightly around his throat.

Enjoying the strangled gasps of pain, Charlie pulled the boy harshly away from Benson and threw him into one of the passenger seats. Wiping the blood off his hands on his uniform, the soldier towered over the beaten rebel with an expression on his face that could only be described as a sadistic satisfaction. "Why should we fight a savage like you fairly? You should be grateful you're still breathing, you little piece of shit..." he sneered and was about to deliver another punch to the battered face when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Waiting for Charlie to meet his gaze, Benson smirked and held out a bandana. "Let's gag him... I believe I've heard enough of his prattle..." he offered while keeping his eyes focused on their captive.

Returning the smirk, Charlie took hold of the bandana and quickly folded it up. He then forced the cloth between the boy's bleeding lips and tied it off almost painfully tight around the blonde head. Once the gag was in place he stood and folded his arms almost mockingly. "So much for one of the infamous gundam pilots... What are you going to do now, boy?" he asked in a harsh chuckle.

Quatre bit down hard on the cloth in his mouth and glared at the soldier. He growled, and wanted to struggle, but he suddenly caught something happening behind the man taunting him. "Mmmm! Mmmph mmm!!" he tried to talk through the gag but all of his words were muffled.

At first Charlie thought the blonde was merely trying to distract him, but when he saw the aqua eyes widen in fear he noticed they weren't looking at him. Glancing over his shoulder he quickly saw Benson aiming a gun towards him. "Benson...? What are you doing? Commander Peacecraft told us to keep him alive..."

Benson smirk turned evil as he pointed his side arm between Charlie's eyes. "I don't plan on killing him... Who else will I have to pin your death on?" he asked in a low chuckle.

Now his own eyes growing wide, Charlie raised his hands as he looked on in shock. "Benson, what the hell are you doing?!"

"You always were rather slow..." Benson said lightly in disappointment. "I'm going to kill you and blame the rebel. Is that really so hard to understand?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.

Charlie was nearly speechless, but he tried his best not to show his fear. "And what makes you think that the Commander will believe you...?"

Benson shrugged and kept his smirk in place. "I don't see why he wouldn't. You and Commander Peacecraft believed me when I told you the gundam pilot killed both our pilots... "

Stunned, Charlie glanced over towards the gagged rebel who had a glare fixed on Benson. "The rebel didn't kill them...? Then you did... But why?!"

"I suppose I can tell you..." Benson mused lightly. "It's the least I can do before I kill you..."

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

Wow..

First poor Milliardo...

Now poor Quatre...

So conflicting!

Muahahaha!

Later!


	6. So Dramatically

Dun dun dunnn!!

Will Milliardo pry his head out of his ass long enough to see the truth?

Read and find out...

Enjoy!

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 6

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

Milliardo stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow as he patted down the sand that now covered the dead guard once more. It had taken nearly an hour to bury the guard and the pilots, but when he was satisfied with the makeshift graves he turned back towards the plane for a moment. He had hand picked the aircraft for its durability and its large cargo capacity. A week ago he thought it was the perfect choice for the simple supply mission, but now he knew he had been horribly wrong.

The hunk of metal was useless to them, that much Milliardo was certain of. Now, because of the Gundam pilot's betrayal, he was wondering if the entire thing had been staged. Quatre had plenty of opportunity to sabotage the aircraft back when he was posing as part of the ground crew. He could have switched the fuel, planted the jamming signal, and have spare time to concoct this elaborate plan to send Milliardo running in circles around the Arabian's little finger.

A plan that Milliardo apparently fell for. It grated at his nerves horribly to know that he was played so precisely. It also hurt him deeply that his emotions were so easily twisted. He knew he was getting too close to the Arabian and their similar backgrounds obviously made him reach out in some way to identify with the boy. It was a fatal mistake, treating an enemy in a favorable manner. One that Milliardo was clearly paying for.

What was worse was that part of him truly wanted to believe that the boy was being honest with him. He still had images of that dream plaguing his thoughts, and that combined with the heated moment they shared in the passenger cabin made him so utterly confused inside. Hurt and anger easily trumped the confusion though. He found more often than not that anger usually masked his other emotions rather well.

The moment the word 'mask' entered his mind he saw the image of his other persona beating the life out of the bound rebel. "Dammit.. Focus, Milliardo... It was just a dream, nothing else..." he growled sharply at himself.

Instead of dwelling over the conflicting images that were rattling inside his mind, Milliardo did a quick scan of the horizon. He wasn't sure when Quatre's rescue party would be arriving, but he knew he had to be ready for them.

"No doubt he already told them the situation.. Unless he was only able to send a distress signal." he thought aloud as he moved to the comfort of the plane's shade.

If it was the other gundam pilots there could be trouble, but he was fairly confident that they wouldn't try anything as long as he had their strategist in his possession. Then again it was hard to say what the gundam pilots would do. If it was Heero that came he could very well destroy the lot of them, plane and all in order to be rid of him and dispose of a potentially compromised strategist. It was a common practice to quickly kill the strategist if there was no hope of retrieving them alive.

The idea left Milliardo feeling very cold inside. It was common practice in the Alliance, Oz, and even in the White Fang now. If the strategist couldn't be protected then they had to be killed to protect the greater good. It was the law of war for centuries. Despite the evolution of man, it still held true. _'Which I'm sure Quatre realizes... In that case perhaps he knows his time is limited...'_

As he was going over the possible outcomes the sound of a gun shot ringing throughout the silence startled him. "Damnit, now what.." He growled loudly as he ran into to cargo hold.

Private Kingston met him in the cargo hold, and both men set off together in search of the commotion. When they entered the passenger cabin both of them were greeted by the sight of Benson restraining a bound and gagged blonde boy. Their gazes were quickly diverted from that though when they noticed laying face down on the ground in a slowly growing pool of blood was the other guard.

"Charlie!" Kingston cried out as he rushed to his comrade's side. When he rolled the prone figure onto his back he gasped and stared at the single bullet wound to his head.

"What happened here?!" Milliardo demanded as he looked at another of his men now dead.

Benson had just tied the ropes around the struggling Quatre as tight as he could before turning to address his commander. "He.. He grabbed his side arm.. And shot him.. I tried to tackle him to the ground before he could but.. But I was too late.." Benson gasped out, looking very rattled.

"Mff!!" a muffled growl split the air. All eyes turned to the blonde boy who was struggling hard against the ropes and the gag in his mouth.

Milliardo noticed the various bruises and cuts on the boy's pale face that weren't there before, but ignored them as he moved to stand in front of the blonde rebel. "I have had it with you..." he growled in a deadly tone as he raised his hand and struck him swiftly across the face. The strike made a loud cracking sound in the silence of the cabin and left behind a scratch that went across his right cheek.

As the cut slowly began to bleed, Quatre finally lifted his head to look up at his captor. The wide aqua eyes almost looked like they were begging for something, and Milliardo was tempted to remove the gag to hear what he had to say. His hand reached out and was poised over the gag, but one look at his lifeless soldier on the floor strengthened his resolve.

Clenching his fist instead, Milliardo glared back into those pleading eyes and snorted. "When they get here I will use you as a hostage.. Then when we arrive at the base I will hand you over to the interrogation officers and they will beat every shred of information you have in that clever little head..." He roughly took hold of the bruised chin and forced the boy to keep eye contact with him. "Once I've made absolutely sure that everything useful has been bled dry from you I will broadcast your execution to make an example out of you..." he stated in a low even tone, meaning every word.

Quatre's eyes grew wider and he struggled even harder as he tried to shout through the gag. Everything came out muffled, and it only seemed to amuse the white fang leader. "Struggle all you want, I'm not making the same mistake twice." he stated calmly.

He was going to say more, but the sound of engines soon could be heard off in the distance. "Looks like your would be rescue team has arrived..." Milliardo smirked. "Well, let's go out and say hello.." Looking over at his two remaining soldiers he motioned towards the cockpit. "Start gathering whatever we may need.. I'm going ensure our transport out of here..." he muttered as he began untying the ropes that bound the rebel.

"Yes sir..." Benson said as he smirked at the glaring Quatre.

Quatre's anger towards the imposter soldier flared dangerously when he saw the smug look. The moment the ropes had loosened enough he lunged forward towards the smirking man, but a vice like grip clamped around his throat and pulled him back. He then felt a hot breath in his ear followed by a low deadly growl.

"Try that again and I'll break your neck.. Now move..." Milliardo grunted as he shoved the rebel towards the open cargo hatch.

Stumbling through the hatchway Quatre landed hard on a stack of crates. He barely had time to respond to the pain he felt before a gun barrel was pressed hard into his back. Milliardo grabbed hold of the back of the nasty uniform jacket the Arabian had stolen and began dragging him through the cargo hold.

Milliardo's mind was burning with his anger, but beneath that there was a deep sense of betrayal and an even deeper hurt that he was denying with an all out passion. He could still hear the mocking voice of his other half from the dream telling him that he was ensuring his own damnation for what he was doing.

The way Quatre was bleeding and beaten Milliardo couldn't help but see the broken form tied to the chair within his mind. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't force the image out of his head. Instead he focused on his anger towards the Arabian as he finally shoved the boy down the loading hatch.

Quatre stumbled and fell into the sand only to hiss and growl in pain when he felt the hot grains getting into his wounds. He wanted to pass out or die, whichever came first when the pain seemed to double from the sand in his open cuts. But neither were options as he was drug back to his feet and forced to stumble across the ever shifting terrain. The anger that was pouring from Milliardo was also wearing heavily on his nearly spent body, but one thing kept him fighting the darkness that was threatening to creep over his senses. _'I'm going to get that bastard Benson if it's the last thing I ever do... Which it very well might be...'_ his mind growled as they finally came to a stop.

Standing in the shade of the plane, Milliardo had a tight hold of the chain that was attached to the blonde boy's shackles. The aircraft that was coming closer was small and one that the white fang leader didn't recognized. It looked almost like a sea plane, but seemed to be modified for the desert conditions. However it made no difference as he pulled the still gagged blonde close to him and made ready his side arm. Quatre was still desperately trying to talk through the gag, but he no longer struggled against his bonds. Milliardo figured that the boy was trying to beg for his life, so ignored him and kept his focus on the plane.

Soon the plane landed around fifty yards away from the grounded aircraft. The loose sand was blown all around, but Milliardo refused to move to shield himself. Once the sand settled his sharp blue eyes caught sight of two people exiting the plane and walking forward. Holding the boy tight against him with one arm, he began walking forward as well under the harsh sun.

As he walked a smirk crossed his face as he leaned forward to whisper in his prisoner's ear. "Is this enough adrenaline for you, Mr. Winner?" he asked in a mocking tone that earned a growl from the small blonde. The growl made him snort in amusement as he pulled the boy closer. "Is the danger getting you off yet..?" he jeered just to be snide.

Annoyed that Milliardo was mocking him with his own sarcastic advances, Quatre growled loudly around the gag. _'Dammit.. I need to warn him about Benson!'_ He was desperately trying to get the older blonde to listen to him, but nothing was working.The gag was too tight and shoved too far into his mouth for him to make a coherent word.

His thoughts were cut short when he saw the familiar form of Rashid walking along side Auda towards them. _'No! We'll all be killed, we need to leave now!' _he screamed within his mind. He then began struggling even harder against his restraints.

"You better stop or I'll shoot both of them.." Milliardo growled into his ear, which instantly made the boy cease his struggles. Seeing how effectively that threat worked he quickly figured out that these two men must mean something to the boy. He stored that information away for the time being, and soon came to a stop about twenty yards in front of his plane.

The two men also stopped twenty yards from their plane, leaving about ten between them.

Before any introduction could be made the large bearded man spoke out in a deep booming voice. "We are prepared to negotiate as long as you give your word to return Master Quatre without any further injury." he stated firmly as his dark eyes quickly scanned over the young blonde's form.

Milliardo quirked an eyebrow when he heard the word 'master'. "That's very nice of you, but he has done quite a bit in the past few days that he needs to answer for..." he said as he held the boy to him tighter.

The shorter man stepped forward and held up his hands to show he was unarmed. "Listen, I know that he must have done something, but this a war we're in... Just give him back to us and we'll take you where you wish and we'll go our separate ways.." he offered smoothly while casting worried glances towards Quatre.

It was a tempting offer, but Milliardo didn't know if he could trust these people. "That may be acceptable... But I keep him with me until my men and I are safely off the plane." he added, although pondering how much effort it would take to overpower these men.

The shorter man seemed ready to protest, but the giant nodded in agreement. "That is acceptable... But is the gag necessary?" he asked lightly, but he clearly saw that the blonde was desperately trying to tell them something.

Milliardo considered it for a moment. He looked at the boy and wondered if he would give the order to fire, but the pleading expression on the abused face did make him curious. Figuring that there would be no harm in removing the gag, he kept his sidearm pressed against Quatre's ribs as he reached up to untie the gag.

The second the gag was out Quatre began glaring hard at the White fang leader. "I didn't kill that soldier! Benson did!" he stated quickly.

"Benson? That nervous wreck? You have got to be joking." Milliardo scoffed on a snort. But those eyes that were staring at him seemed dead serious.

"I'm not joking! After that other guard tied me up he took his gun and shot him! He gagged me so I wouldn't tell you! He's the one who killed the pilots too!" Quatre exclaimed desperately

Milliardo frowned deeply at the accusations, but the rebel looked so sincere. "Why the hell would Benson do all of that?" he asked flatly, keeping his sidearm firmly in place.

"He's not one of your men, you stubborn bastard!" Quatre snapped. "He's an assassin! He and that other soldier that I did kill were sent to eliminate you!" he growled impatiently. He knew it sounded outrageous, but he was praying silently that the man would listen.

Although he wanted to argue, Milliardo suddenly realized that it did make sense. "Benson was a last minute transfer.. So was Herclin, the one you killed..." he muttered more to himself.

Now that he thought about it he had never seen nor even heard of Benson or Herclin before they showed up for the assignment a week ago. But there were a few things that still didn't add up. "But you drugged the entire crew.. How could he have killed the pilots?" Milliardo asked, giving the idea serious thought now. If Quatre was telling the truth then that would mean he had made a great error. And Milliardo hated being wrong.

Quatre tried hard to recall the man's words for a moment before he spoke. "I thought I did drug him, but he was faking. He said he was waiting for me to try something so he could blame their deaths on me. He's been playing us both for fools just to make sure no one would get in the way of his mission to kill you!" he exclaimed in disdain. He was very agitated that someone had been manipulating him.

The feeling didn't escape Milliardo either. "With Herclin gone then he would have had to.. So he's been eliminating the others one by one until no one else would stand in his way..."

"Pardon my interruption, but one soldier wouldn't have happened to be named Akio Herclin would he?" Rashid suddenly asked, now only a few paces away from the two blonde soldiers.

Milliardo raised a brow in suspicion as he regarded the towering man in front of them. "Yes.. How did you know?" he questioned warily, wondering how he was able to approach them so silently.

Rasid's expression turned grim as he glanced over at his young master. "Do you recall the rebel extremist camp that we stumbled upon four months ago, Master Quatre?" he asked calmly as he looked back at the grounded plane.

Aqua eyes grew wide when the name finally clicked in his mind. "Of course! Akio Herclin was their top assassin! I knew I recognized him from somewhere!" He then looked back at the man that was holding him captive. "They must have placed a hit on you and sent Herclin to take out you and your Morocco base.." he explained, and hoped he would believe him.

Milliardo wished that he could say they were trying to trick him, but they looked too damn sincere. "Okay.. Let's say you're telling the truth, and Herclin and Benson were planted on the plane to take me out.. But if I let you go in order to bring Benson down that places me at a vast disadvantage afterwards... How do I know you won't simply finish the job?" he asked flatly, having no desire to escape one life threatening situation only to be tossed into another.

Quatre understood the White fang leader's unease in these circumstances, and looked directly into his eyes as he spoke. "I'll personally vouch for your safety. My men have been after this extremist group for some time now, and I believe the live capture of one of their troops would be a big enough bartering tool for your freedom..." he offered, looking to Rashid and Auda for confirmation.

Auda suddenly smirked and stroked his chin in thought. "Yeah.. That would be a pretty nice prize ta take home... These guys have been going around the area claiming to be us, and we haven't appreciated the way they abuse the maguanac name." he mused aloud as he looked to Rashid. "What do you think, Captain?"

The large man gave a slight nod as he held out he hand. "Capture Benson alive and we'll release you at the destination of your choosing after he is safely within our custody."

Milliardo looked at the large dark hand for a moment before he hesitantly reached out his own. But before they could shake on their deal the sound of gunfire echoed through the quiet desert followed by a large explosion that made the sands beneath their feet shift quickly.

When they turned to look they saw the right plane engine engulfed in huge flames that were quickly fanning throughout the entire right wing. "Damn! He must have set the engine off.." Milliardo growled as he thought of all the equipment he was going to lose.

"Release me so we can get Kingston and capture Benson!" Quatre called out as he held out his bound wrists.

Knowing there was little time to argue, Milliardo pulled out the key to the magnetic shackles and soon the blonde rebel was free. Once the shackles were gone Quatre turned once more to the two maguanacs. "Auda!" he called out.

Instantly Auda reached behind his back and tossed a gun to Quatre which the young pilot caught easily. Milliardo stared at Auda for a moment who shrugged carelessly, then he rolled his eyes before he and Quatre dashed across the sands towards the burning plane.

"Let me guess..." Milliardo started as they closed in on the plane. "He's your sharp shooter and could have killed me before I had a chance to move.."

Quatre smirked and glanced quickly over at the blonde man. "Well when you put it so dramatically..."

_fjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

Yay!

Our two favorite blondes now working together to not get bloweded up!

Hehe

Later!


	7. More ways than one

Let's see what happens to our two lovely blondes this time...

Enjoy!

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 7

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

The fire was quickly raging out of control, and it was only a matter of time before it followed the fuel line to the main fuel tanks. The two blonde soldiers were fully aware of this when they inched their way to the opened loading hatch, but they kept moving despite the impending threats.

"So what are your two friends going to be doing?" Milliardo asked in a whisper as they slowed down to approach the back of the plane.

Quatre glanced over his shoulder and saw Auda disappearing into the plane while Rashid stood out on the sands. "Auda will be contacting the others for assistance... And Rashid is staying there in case there's trouble." he answered, moving around the tool cart that he had been using the past few days.

Cautiously Quatre inched down once he neared the hatch and motioned for Milliardo to wait for a moment. He moved quickly to look inside the cargo hold for the rogue rebel soldier. When he saw no sign of Benson he slowly moved onward into the cargo hold, Milliardo only a few steps behind him.

The amount of stacked crates scattered around the cargo hold made it seem almost like a maze with plenty of places to hide and ambush from. It was unnerving, but the blonde rebel pressed forward while trying to focus his senses to discern if there was anyone else lurking around them. He soon sensed two people coming from further inside the plane. It was then he noticed one of the presences getting weaker.

"Benson's in the passenger area... And I think Kingston's been wounded..." Quatre whispered to Milliardo as he quickly moved towards the hatch at the end of the cargo hold.

Milliardo was right on his heels, but frowned slightly at Quatre's words. "How can you tell?" he asked while looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was behind them.

"Just trust me..." Quatre hissed as he moved to the hatch control panel.

His slender fingers moved over the opening key pad sequence that he had memorized during his stay. He motioned Milliardo to move to the other side of the hatch before he pressed the key that would enter the command. Pressing his back against the metal wall, Quatre let himself slide down it until he was in a crouched position before he reached up and hit the open command.

The door hissed slowly and the moment the hatch was fully open a barrage of bullets fired out.

The shots struck the wooden crates that were in front of the hatch, making them shatter open. Milliardo gritted his teeth and held in the grunt of pain when one of the wooden shards grazed his cheek. Ignoring it, he looked over to where Quatre met his gaze.

The two soldiers stared into the other's blue eyes, and shared a slight nod before Quatre darted around into the open hatchway. He fired three times before he tumbled forward to take cover behind one of the passenger seats.

The enraged pain filled growl was Milliardo's cue to enter as well. After a quick glance to see Benson on the ground clutching at his bleeding knee, he moved fast to wrench the gun away from his grasp. The two struggled hard for possession of the weapon for a brief moment until another shot rang out and Benson fell to the floor. His other knee was now bleeding heavily as he writhed in agony.

Milliardo looked at imposter for a moment before his icy eyes flickered to where he saw Quatre shoving his weapon in the waist band of the uniform pants he stole off of Herclin's corpse. The rebel turned to kneel at the side of Kingston sprawled out on the floor to check over the damage that had been inflicted.

Kingston had been shot once in the stomach and was quickly losing blood. "Knock out Benson! I'm gonna try to drag Kingston out!" Quatre called out quickly as he began pulling the unconscious soldier up so he could get a better hold on him.

Milliardo gladly reached down and hauled the growling Benson up from the floor by his collar. He dealt one swift punch to Benson's face before he was able to struggle, effectively knocking him unconscious as well. After hoisting the traitor over his shoulder, he checked on Quatre who had gotten a hold of Kingston. The Arabian looked ready to head out, so Milliardo was about to move for the hatch once more.

Then the already cracked windows on the right side of the plane suddenly shattered open from the intense heat as the flames began engulfing more of the air craft before he could even take a step forward. Unable to properly shield themselves due to their position, both blondes took the brunt of the flying glass. Both growled out and hissed in pain as the shards sliced over their exposed skin, but Milliardo regained his composure and pushed the younger pilot towards the hatch. "Move!"

Not needing to be told twice, Quatre half carried half dragged Kingston's body out of the passenger cabin and through the cargo hold. His muscle were burning, and his present injuries were screaming at him to stop, but Quatre kept moving forward knowing that Milliardo was right behind him. When he got to the hatch he was greeted by the welcomed sight of Rashid waiting to assist them. Without a second thought, Quatre passed over Kingston's body to the Maguanac leader. The moment Rashid had a hold of the soldier they moved as fast as they could across the treacherous sands away from the quickly burning plane towards the desert aircraft.

Along the way they began hearing various explosions and familiar sounds of ammo discharging as the flames began creeping towards the cargo hold. Once they reached the other aircraft, Auda quickly ushered them inside so they could take off. Each of them scrambled quickly to get the unconscious men strapped down securely before they strapped themselves into a seat.

When they were all secured, Auda hopped into the pilot's seat and began the take off sequence. "How far do we need ta get before that thing blows?" he asked over the sound of the starting engines.

"As far as this thing can get us!" Milliardo called back. "There's a large payload of explosives in the middle of the cargo hold!"

"Shit.. This would hafta be difficult.. Hold on!" Auda shouted as the plane slowly began to pick up speed as it moved across the sands.

The plane began to lift off the ground and in a matter of seconds they were gaining altitude. When they were finally in the air a loud explosion sounded out. The shockwave wracked through the plane as Adua fought hard to keep the controls steady. "Damn, you weren't kidding..." he grunted out when he finally steadied the plane.

Milliardo glanced out one of the windows at his ruined plane, now nothing more than a heap of burning scrap metal. He watched the plane until it was out of his field of vision, leaving him staring blankly at his reflection in the glass. _'Now what...?'_ he wondered silently before turning his attention to the heavily breathing blonde rebel.

The once smooth pale face was marred with a web work of scratches. Some still bleeding. The uniform he was still wearing was tattered and torn. Not to mention completely filthy. It made him wonder just what kind of soldier would do something like that. It made his skin crawl just thinking of having to dig up Herclin's body after being under the hot desert sand baking for four days. He had ne clue how Quatre stomached switching clothes with the dead man.

'_Not only that... He risked his life to help me and Kingston... After everything we did to him... He still wanted to help me...'_ How anyone would willingly help an enemy that had previously abused them to the point of cruelty was beyond Milliardo's comprehension. Before he could figure out an answer to his own questions he snapped back to reality when Quatre suddenly began moving.

Once Quatre felt that Auda had control over the plane, he began unfastening the safety belts that held him to his seat. His injuries now making his head swim, he had to slowly force himself to stand up. He staggered his way towards where they had strapped down Kingston. There he began to rip open the uniform jacket and the white blood stained shirt underneath.

When he saw the steadily bleeding bullet wound in the man's stomach he frowned deeply. "This is serious... Might have ruptured something.." he mumbled to himself.

He moved quickly over to the nearby compartments where he knew medical supplies were kept. Just as he was about to reach out for the bandages suddenly everything started spinning. His vision blurred and he nearly collapsed to the floor.

Rashid had unbuckled himself as well when he saw his young master beginning to move around to tend to the wounded soldier, so was there to catch the slender frame before he toppled over. He held onto the boy gently and looked on in worry into the glazed blinking eyes. "Master? Are you alright, Master Quatre?" he asked softly while helping him onto his feet.

Quatre shook his head in an attempt to clear his swirling thoughts and brought up his right hand to his forehead. "I.. I should be... Mild.. Heat exhaustion..." His clouding vision then focused on Kingston's body once more. "Need to stop the bleeding.. He won't make it at this rate..." Quatre pulled away from Rashid and began reaching for the bandages once more.

Knowing that the youth wouldn't stop to rest until the soldier was taken care of, Rashid sighed deeply and began helping the blonde boy gather the supplies they would need.

Watching from his seat, Milliardo was amazed at the determination etched on the tired abused face as Quatre worked hard to stop the bleeding of one of his men. Quatre was quick to pull off the confining uniform jacket he was in before he began cleaning around the wound. He applied pressure to it with thick layers of gauze while Rashid was using surgical tape to secure it into place. Once the gauze was taped down to the soldier's stomach, Rashid held the man up while Quatre began wrapping the bandages around his mid section as tightly as he could.

"Auda! When... When you're in range.. Signal for the medical team to be on standby when we land..." Quatre called out weakly as his trembling hands taped down the bandages.

"You got it, Master!" Auda responded, already trying to find the right signal on the aircraft's radio.

Rashid took a moment to check Kingston's pulse, but frowned when he felt that it was weak and sporadic. "His pulse is too weak to give him any kind of sedative at this point.. There's nothing more we can do for him until we reach our base..." he said only to feel something tug at his heart when he saw Quatre's expression darken at the news.

Nodding in resignation, Quatre moved over to Benson's unmoving form and ripped at the cloth of his pants where he had shot him in the knees. "Need.. More bandages.. Might be able to give him a sedative... Rashid, help me mov..." Before he could finish his sentence Quatre's vision suddenly blacked out and his legs buckled from under him.

When he heard the boy's voice fade out Rashid quickly turned around from where he was going through the supplies. To his astonishment he saw that Milliardo had moved from his seat and had caught the blonde boy before he could hit the floor.

Clutching at the small pilot carefully, Milliardo looked down into the clouded pain filled eyes and frowned slightly. "You go rest, I'll look after Benson." he said calmly before lifting the light blonde into his arms and carrying him over to an empty seat.

Quatre struggled weakly in the man's grasp, making many futile attempts to get up to return to his task. Each time was easily stopped when Milliardo placed a strong hand on the slender shoulders. "...Need to stop the bleeding... Tend... to the wounds." he said in a soft broken whisper as his eyelids began to droop from his own fatigue.

"We can handle it, Master Quatre." Rashid spoke out as he approached where the two blondes were seated. "You on the other hand are exhausted and dehydrated.. Here, drink this and get some rest..." he said in a calming tone as he held out an opened water bottle to the fading boy.

Milliardo watched as Quatre's shaking hand grasped at the water bottle and brought it to his dry cracked lips. It was then that his eyes saw the blue tint of the water as Quatre drank from the bottle. He was quick to grab the bottle as it fell from the boy's hands when his eyes slid closed. Seeing that the boy was knocked out cold, Milliardo brought the bottle up to his nose to sniff at the contents. He could find no trace scent that usually accompanied a sedative or drug, so looked warily up at the behemoth. "You drugged him?" Milliardo asked as he absently held a bit tighter to the rebel.

Rashid gave a slight nod, mildly surprised when he saw the almost protective gleam in the blonde man's eyes as he moved closer to Quatre's limp form. "We have to whenever he gets like this.. Or else he'll keep going until he passes out from exhaustion.." he explained as he took the bottle from the blonde man. "Now you said you were going to tend to this other soldier?" he reminded lightly.

Realizing that the large man was politely asking him to get up and move away from the boy, Milliardo slowly stood to his feet and went to the unconscious Benson's side. He then quietly began picking up where Quatre had left off by removing the rest of the cloth from around the bloodied knees. As he moved around the plane cabin getting the various supplies he needed, he occasionally stole quick glances of the obviously gentle giant pulling the boy into his lap to tenderly clean the cuts on the pale face.

He was amazed at the almost loving attention the behemoth was taking in tending to the blonde boy, and suddenly felt ashamed for not believing him when he said he hadn't killed the pilots. _'If that man finds out what harm I caused Quatre I might need to watch my back...'_ he thought warily as he began to treat the real traitor's wounds.

Needless to say, he wasn't going to be as gentle as the blonde youth would have been.

The reception that was there to greet them when they arrived at the rebel outpost was hardly what Milliardo expected.

When he stepped off the plane he expected to be clamped in irons and hauled off to the nearest holding cell. Instead there was a full medical staff that ushered him and the two still unconscious soldiers to a large tent that was set up in the middle of a small oasis. As he walked along with the medical staff he watched curiously when he saw the man called Rashid carrying the blonde boy off to another large tent next to the modest lake amongst the lush vegetation.

As Rashid was carrying the motionless gundam pilot droves of other men of all shapes and sizes came rushing to the large man's side. All of them asking of the well being of the drugged boy. Milliardo was stunned at the amount of concern and emotion these men seemed to have for the boy. It was as if a member of their own family was in the behemoth's arms. Some of them were on the brink of tears. Rashid began barking out orders to which the men hastily moved in order to carry them out.

When the large man finally disappeared into the other tent with Quatre Milliardo was startled slightly by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"Sir? Would you please come inside so we can tend to your injuries?"

Looking towards the voice, Milliardo saw a dark skinned man with black hair and a thick beard watching him expectantly. "Where are they taking him?" he asked, ignoring the man's question for now.

The bearded man looked at the white fang leader curiously for a moment, but decided to answer his question. "Captain Rashid makes it his personal responsibility to tend to Master Quatre whenever he is injured..." he explained calmly.

"Why is that?" Milliardo pressed on, needing to understand what was going on here.

That made the man frown slightly, but it was still a harmless question. He decided to humor the blonde man. "Two years ago Master Quatre saved Captain Rashid's life... Now will you please come inside?" he asked again, hoping the use of force wouldn't be necessary.

Now that he had a reasonable answer, Milliardo nodded and entered the tent without protest. Once inside he was again surprised at the amount of equipment the men had at their disposal. It looked very close to a regulation hospital with the best equipment available. Even more important than the equipment was a group of very dedicated looking men and women who were quickly tending to the two seriously wounded men. Milliardo was soon taken to a medical table and was immediately put through the process of an almost routine examination.

After a short time the doctor wrote him off with a clean bill of health other than the scratches and cuts along his face and arms where the glass shards from his cargo plane had shattered. They were easily cleaned bandaged. The fact that they were actually gentle with him made him feel worse for what he had done.

He had treated Quatre like a worthless animal, but here they were treating him like a guest in their home making sure he was alright and comfortable. Had Quatre still been in his custody back at his base Milliardo was certain the boy would be on the brink of death. The notion was wearing heavily on his mind all through his examination. So heavily that before he knew it Milliardo found himself up and walking around in a new set of clothing that the doctor had provided him.

Stepping out of the medical tent, Milliardo pulled on the white t-shirt that he had been given. It felt good to be in a fresh set of clothes, and he was steadily feeling better. He was surprised to see that the sun was setting already once he was outside. "Day's gone by fast..." he mumbled as he slowly walked towards the lake that was in the middle of the wild oasis.

The bright colors that streaked across the sky were reflected off the smooth glassy surface of the lake. It seemed to double the beautiful ambiance that the white fang leader felt surrounded by. He stood there almost breathlessly as he stared off into the sunset. The colors somehow seemed brighter, more vibrant. Like this was the first time he had ever really looked at a sunset.

"Maybe it is... Have I really ever paused to enjoy something this simple..?" he asked himself quietly. For so long he had been fixated on getting his revenge that he couldn't recall a time where he wasn't plotting some sort of attack. He had been so bent on his own agenda that it left little time for anything else.

As he stood there, for the first time that he could recall clearly, he had no idea what to do. He was at the mercy of these maguanacs, which so far wasn't a bad experience. They were walking all around the camp and none of them spared him a passing glance. He could still make out a group of the desert bandits outside the large tent on the other side of the lake. Some of them were pacing like someone in a waiting room for news on the condition of a loved one in the OR. He seriously doubted that his own subordinates would express that much concern had anything happened to him.

After a moment longer of watching the tent, Milliardo turned his attention back to the sunset. It made him feel strangely calm the longer he looked at it. Like it was soothing his troubled mind. Once he could think clearly his mind wandered back to what Quatre had said to him just a day ago. "Am I really willing to destroy something this beautiful?" he asked himself in a whisper, running his now bandaged hand through his long hair.

"That's a rather big question to be asking..." a voice suddenly called out from behind him.

Recognizing the voice, Milliardo turned to see the man called Auda walking towards him. "So I'm beginning to realize... How's he doing?" he asked quietly.

Knowing who he was referring to, Auda smirked slightly as he stood next to the blonde man at the lake. "He'll be fine.. He's mainly dehydrated... Aside from all the cuts and bruises, he'll probably be complaining at us to quit fussing over him in a few hours once the drugs wear off." he chuckled. He could already picture the blonde boy blushing at all the unnecessary attention he'd be receiving.

"Sounds like this is normal procedure around here..." Milliardo commented lightly. In truth he was impressed at how organized this ragtag looking group was. It actually put some of his own forces to shame in regards to the quality of care and the work ethic.

Auda laughed lightly and folded his hands behind his head as he looked out into the sunset. "Yeah, pretty much is.. It's worth it though... Oh, and a word of advice..." he trailed off to make sure he had Milliardo's attention.

Milliardo looked at him curiously before speaking. "I'm listening..."

"Ya might wanna stay away from the Captain until Master Quatre's back on his feet..." Auda warned him lightly.

The blonde man nodded, but then a thought occurred to him. "Does that mean I'm not being held prisoner here?" he questioned hesitantly. He was still expecting someone to shackle him and drag him away. It was what he would have done had he been in the Arabian's place.

That made the older man's grin widen as he nodded his head. "Oh you're a prisoner whether you're chained up or not." He then pointed to the lake in front of them before he continued. "This lake is the only fresh water in a hundred mile radius, so leaving isn't really an option unless you feel like fighting off thirty-nine highly trained rebel soldiers in order to hijack one of our planes."

His lips twitching into a slight smile, Milliardo bowed his head slightly and sighed. "Yeah.. I've heard of the infamous Maguanac forces... Although the fact you call that boy Master was quite the surprise." he added, still not quite certain about that fact.

Auda knew what he was probably thinking, and had to agree that it probably did seem odd for someone on the outside. "Not as surprising as an upper class thirteen year old boy capturing a traitor, taking a bullet to save Captain Rashid, and then risking his life to protect a rabble group of rebel soldiers trying to make it to earth..." he told him quietly. Every detail was still fresh in his mind as if it happened yesterday. He could still see the gleam of determination that had been in those aqua eyes.

Now thoroughly surprised, Milliardo looked on in disbelief at the maguanac soldier. "Quatre saved you...?" he repeated slowly. Although the thought didn't feel as outrageous the more he thought about it. _'He saved me...'_

"Yep... He insisted on fighting to help us protect the transport ships on their way to earth.." Auda then looked up towards the falling night sky and smiled thoughtfully. "At first I didn't think he could handle it.. But he took control of the Captain's mobile suit, and started calling out orders and attack plans as if he'd always been a part of our ranks..." He glanced over where Milliardo was watching him with that steady ice blue gaze and mused silently how similar it looked to his young master. "I'll only tell you this once... You hurt him again... And you won't be around long to regret it..." he stated flatly before turning to head back towards a group of tents on the other side of the lake.

Milliardo stood there for a moment as he took in the man's words. He had no doubt in his mind that they would most likely hunt him down if he tried anything to hurt the boy. But one thing still nagged at him. "Why haven't you tried to get revenge on me already?" he called out while the Arabian soldier was still close.

Auda paused in his course and turned to regard the blonde leader once more. "Evidently you didn't notice how readily Master Quatre was to bargain for your safe transport and release..." He then pointed to a row of tents set up not far from the medical tent. "There's an empty tent set up for you at the end of the line over there. I suggest you get some rest, Mister Peacecraft." With that Auda returned to his original course, leaving the white fang leader to his thoughts.

Milliardo watched him carefully as he walked away and joined a group of men that were gathered around a fire across the lake. For a moment it almost looked like a group of ordinary men huddled around a camp fire. They were laughing and carrying on like there was no threat, no war constantly going on around them.

It was odd to be around such enthusiasm and optimism, but what was stranger still was the fact that Milliardo found it rather refreshing. This bit of normalcy was rare in war torn veterans. To see this many battle hardened men still able to joke and carry on made a flicker of doubt pass through the blonde man.

"Maybe.. Maybe I have been too rash in my judgement..." he muttered to himself as he slowly wandered to the tent that Auda had pointed out.

He had readily condemned all of the rebels that stood in his way. He felt that no mercy should be shown towards anyone that opposed him. Now here he was in the midst of his enemy, and they hadn't made a single move against him. From Auda's words Milliardo knew that the only reason he was still breathing was in the large tent across the lake recovering from his stupid mistakes.

Stepping inside the tent, Milliardo found a cot and a blanket already out and a small electric lamp sitting on a fold up table. Once he caught sight of the cot, his own exhaustion made itself known quickly. After stifling a yawn Milliardo moved to the cot and sat down gratefully. It was then that all of the past few days replayed in his mind. He could remember the flirting gestures, and the hard work that Quatre had put forth in an attempt to save them. In return Milliardo had betrayed him, and wrongly punished him for something he had no part of.

It left him feeling like a true monster as he sighed deeply and bowed his head in shame. "Dammit... After everything that we put him through... He risked his life to save Kingston... To capture Benson... And argue for my behalf with these men..." Unable to fathom the amount of forgiveness that the blonde boy must possess, Milliardo wearily laid back on the cot and stared at the shadows cast on the tent walls.

As he watched the shadows dance along the fabric of the tent his thoughts wandered to what all he really knew of the boy. "Maybe I should have listened to Noin... She warned me that Quatre was good..." he mumbled while curling onto his side and pulling the blanket around him.

He closed his eyes. His thoughts wandered. Immediately they wrapped around the moment where a pair of warm lips tenderly caressed his own. "Just wish I had known she meant it in more ways than one..."

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

Oooo...

Tingly.

Later!


	8. Truly Safe

Hello returning fans~

Have I told you how much I love you?

Well I do. _~smooches~_

Okay, enough creepy stuff.

Let's see what happens when the tables are turned now that Quatre's the captor and Milliardo's the 'prisoner'.

Enjoy!

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 8

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

After arguing with Rashid for a full three hours, Quatre was finally able to convince the over protective giant that he was well enough to go outside. Once he was free of the confines of his bed, and Rashid's ever watchful eye, the young pilot stepped out into the cool morning air. A gentle breeze wafted past him, and he couldn't help the smile that tugged onto his lips. His bright eyes glanced around the familiar oasis that his maguanac family currently called home.

Just being back with his adopted family made him feel a great deal better. He felt like he had finally returned to his true home. The sights and sounds of his companions working together warmed his heart. The positive emotions he felt from everyone gave him all the strength he needed. Most of the men were already up and moving around to get things ready for the day, and the smell of food being cooked soon was carried on the gentle breeze.

Quatre's stomach growled readily in protest to the lack of healthy attention it had received lately. He suddenly realized that it had been several days since he had a decent meal. From the sounds it was making he was certain it wouldn't be much longer before his stomach started a rebellion of its own. Although the thought of filling his complaining stomach was very tempting, he knew that it had also been a while since a certain White fang leader had eaten.

"I wonder if his stomach is making threats like mine is.." Quatre mused aloud as he set off in search of his enemy.

It only took a quick question to one of the men passing by before he learned which tent his guest was staying in. Soon he was walking across the grass and sand covered ground towards Milliardo's tent. As he moved along he wondered how the older pilot was doing. Auda had told him that Milliardo was fine, only sustaining cuts and bruises, but Quatre wasn't going to be satisfied until he saw it for himself.

Despite everything that had happened it did nothing to change how Quatre felt about the man. He could still only think about that impassioned frenzy they had shared on the plane, and it made him wonder what would happen next. The intrigue he had felt from the older blonde kept his hope alive that he would truly consider his offer, but he was going to be realistic. They were enemies after all. What would it mean to both of their respective sides if they suddenly started something?

"Heero would probably shoot me... But only if he found out..." There were ways to keep something like an illicit affair secret. All one needed was a creative imagination and they could keep something hidden forever. "And I know this would be worth the extra effort..." A chill went through his spine when he recalled being pinned to the wall of the passenger cabin as that solid body was pressed firmly against him. "Damn... That will be worth any effort... Calm down, Quatre, he hasn't agreed to it... Yet.." he added to himself with a confident little smirk.

He soon was entering the tent that was pointed out to him, and he instantly spotted the blonde man wrapped up in a blanket on the cot in the corner. Carefully he walked up to the side of the cot and placed a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. "Mr. Peacecraft? Come on, you have to get up... Wake up... Hello..?" Quatre frowned slightly when the blonde man on the cot simply rolled over and swatted at the air while grunting out some kind of protest.

Seeing that the gentle approach wasn't going to work, he went to plan B. "It's time to get up, Mr. Peacecraft, so..." Grabbing at the gray blanket with his now bandaged hands, Quatre gave it a sharp tug and pulled it off the man's body completely. "Get up!" he called out a bit louder, hoping it would be enough.

Milliardo growled slightly and just buried his face in the crook of his arm in an attempt to block out the familiar voice and slip back into that peaceful oblivion. "Go 'way.." he muttered before a soft snore could be heard.

Quatre almost laughed at the comical scene this was becoming, but he knew he couldn't let the man sleep all day. _'But how can I wake him without pouring a bucket of water on him......'_ It took him a moment, but then his eyes lit up and an evil grin formed on his scratched face. Slowly he leaned over and pulled the long tangled blonde hair away from the man's ear.

Then he brought his face close to the ear and began gently tracing his tongue around the delicate curves. Milliardo stirred slightly and let out a noise that sounded very close to a moan. Encouraged by this, Quatre took the lobe between his lips and nibbled on it gently while his fingers ran through the long locks.

Rising slowly out of his peaceful slumber, Milliardo shifted slightly when he felt something warm and wet teasing his right ear. Still not in complete control of his senses, he absently attempted to move closer to the pleasant sensation. Soon he felt that warm presence moving along his neck. Another moan escaped his lips as the feeling grew less teasing and more attentive as it seemed to be cover every inch of his skin.

Beginning to feel warm and slightly uncomfortable in his curled up position, Milliardo shifted lightly, but made an effort to keep in contact with the pleasing touches. Once he was laying on his back he felt something pressing against his lips. His fogged mind was trying to figure out what was going on as he moved towards the tender caresses. It was only when he felt a warm weight settle on top of him that he realized something wasn't right. Snapping his eyes open, he tried to will his vision to focus when he saw a blurred figure sitting astride his waist.

"Why hello there, Sunshine..." a laughing voice called out.

It took him a moment to recognize the voice, but when he did it left him more confused than before. "Qua... Quatre?" he asked in a groggy voice. When his vision finally cleared up he was greeted by the sight of the young blonde Arabian smiling slyly from his perch atop him.

Quatre's smile grew into a smirk as he lets his hands wander down the man's chiseled chest. He took a moment longer than necessary to feel the hard muscle through the thin white t-shirt. "Why, Mr. Peacecraft, I must say I'm impressed..." He then leaned forward until their faces were very close. "That's the first time I've heard you say my first name since our first encounter..."

His hands fisted in the man's shirt collar tightly and pulled on it until the man was forced to lean up. The distance between their faces now almost nonexistent, there was a brief pause as their eyes locked. Brilliant aqua stared into ice blue in a soul searching gaze before Quatre spoke again. "But that aside, there's one question I need to ask you... And I'll only ask you this once... So it is in your best interests if you answer quickly and truthfully.."

Recognizing the growled statement from their first encounter, Milliardo stared deep into the boy's eyes before nodding slightly. "I'm listening..."

"What... Would you like for breakfast?" Quatre asked with a bright smile.

It was now time for Milliardo blink in confusion at the strange question. "Breakfast....?" he repeated slowly. He began wondering if he could be dreaming again, but the warm weight on top of him felt so real.

Quatre laughed softly and pulled away from the man as he let go of his shirt. "Yeah, Rida the cook always make enough to feed an army twice this size." He gracefully climbed off of his perch and stood next to the cot. He held out his hand to help the man up and continued. "Come on, if we want any food within the next hour we better head to the mess tent before the others wake up."

Milliardo stared at the boy for a moment, still wondering if this was all a dream or some really weird joke being pulled on him. But the longer he looked into those bright shining eyes the more he wanted to trust him. Finally reaching out, Milliardo took the offered hand and soon was standing up rather close to the blonde rebel. "Now exactly what kind of wake up call was that?" he asked lightly as his eyes traveled over the various bandages that covered the boy's face and hands.

He also noticed the bruises along the normally pale arms, but the most bruising was around the slender throat. They were dark purple, almost black, and marred the smooth skin down to his delicate collar bone until the blue t-shirt the boy wore hid the rest of the damage from sight. Suddenly the shame that had been nagging at Milliardo once more rose to be accounted for.

Quatre watched as Milliardo examined him silently, but when he suddenly looked away Quatre began sensing regret. Encouraged by this emotion, he decided to lighten the mood once more. "It's my special wake up call.. One reserved for people who are especially stubborn...." he quipped as he patted the man's chest lightly. "Come on, I'll take you to the mess tent." Quatre then turned away from the man and began walking out of the tent.

Milliardo watched as the tent flap closed behind the blonde, then reached up and lightly brushed his fingers across his own lips. As he pondered the boy's actions, his mind drifted to the last time that they had been in that close of contact. _'Was that offer serious... Or is he just messing with me to keep me off guard...?' _he wondered silently.

Either way, things would prove to be very interesting in the days to come.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

"So let me get everything straight... Because you saved their captain and helped fight off the alliance they made you their leader?" Milliardo asked curiously as he looked on at his reflection in the gently rippling lake water.

Quatre chuckled slightly from his perch on a large piece of sand stone and looked up into the clear blue sky above them. "Basically, I suppose that's what happened... Although I really wouldn't call me their leader. No matter if I'm present or not, Rashid still gives the orders." he said as he absently plucked a blade of grass from the sand.

Intrigued at how modest the young rebel was being, Milliardo glanced over from his seat on the sand at the almost day dreaming gaze on the bandaged face. "Then what would you call yourself? You're obviously important to them."

That question made Quatre frown slightly in thought as he considered it. "I really just consider myself as part of their family... That's the point of the maguanacs.... To fight as a family... There is no personal vendetta, or individual power struggles. We fight together to help and protect one another...." He turned his head to meet the icy blue gaze that was still focused on him. "That's why we're the only military force that has yet to have a fatality within our ranks. Succeeding in the mission is irrelevant. All that matters is that we make it out alive together." he explained lightly.

Milliardo nodded thoughtfully, but another question struck him. "But doesn't that interfere with your training as a gundam pilot? I thought the main directive was to complete all missions no matter what." he inquired lightly, having gathered that from the time he spent with the other gundam pilots.

Once more that slight smirk appeared on Quatre's features and he pointed directly at the blonde man. "Just because you receive specific training doesn't mean you have to follow it to the letter. The others may not agree with me, but personally I see no point in the success of a mission if your dead." With that he laid back on the large warm rock and folded his arms behind his head before continuing. "Besides, I can't bless you with my sparkling personality if I'm dead, now can I?"

That comment actually made Milliardo break out into a light chuckle of his own and he place his hand on his forehead. "Damn... Is this how you treat all your prisoners?" he asked with a slight sarcastic tone. He was actually wondering why he didn't let himself be captured by these people a lot sooner. From the treatment he had gotten so far it was almost like a vacation.

"My dear Mr. Peacecraft, you're not a prisoner." Quatre chided lightly. "We made a fair deal. You in exchange for Benson. Once we know that Benson can provide us with the information we require we'll transport you and Kingston to the destination of your choosing." he said calmly as he crossed his legs elegantly.

Milliardo examined the relaxed pose that the young rebel was in, and saw that he had no other choice but to take his word for it. "I see.. But what if Benson can't provide the information you need?"

Quatre licked his lips before responding. "I'm sure you and I can work out some other kind of agreement that we both would find.. Enjoyable.." he nearly purred in response as a mischievous grin slipped onto his lips.

"And what kind of agreement do you happen to have in mind, Mr. Winner?" Milliardo asked, his curiosity over powering any sense of wariness that may place him on guard.

"We'll have to find out together if that time comes." the blonde boy stated cryptically.

Slightly annoyed at yet another dead end, Milliardo rolled his eyes and turned his attention towards the lake. "You're a very odd person, Mr. Winner..."

A slight laugh escaped Quatre's lips as he stared at the scattered clouds above him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The humorous lilt to the boy's voice made a real smile appear on Milliardo's face. Part of him hated to admit it, but he enjoyed being in the Arabian's company. He was easy to talk to, and understood him better than anyone he had ever met before. Not even Noin made him smile and laugh this much. _'What does it mean, though...? Should I really trust him..? And why do I feel like we've done this before...?'_ he asked himself silently.

"Penny for your thoughts..." Quatre suddenly called out on a quiet voice.

The ancient saying made Milliardo snort softly as he leaned back on the sand, propping himself up on his arms in a more relaxed pose. "Just a penny? It's bad enough you offer a dead currency, but the lowest monetary value of said currency?" he stated on his best indignant voice.

Picking up the hint of playfulness behind the grunted question, Quatre snickered. "Oh forgive me... Well, how's this.. You tell me what's on your mind, and you can send me the bill for what you think it's worth later." he offered lightly.

"Heh, that's as bad as giving me a blank check..." Milliardo pointed out to stall from the original inquiry.

Knowing well that his companion was stalling, Quatre shifted on his rock and looked at the White Fang leader with a sarcastic glare. "Then I suppose it a good thing I have a bottomless checking account.... Now come on, out with it."

Milliardo wouldn't be able to back out of the direct command easily, so he let out a deep sigh and thought for a moment. He wasn't really sure how to say what was really on his mind. Part of him feared the responses he would get, but that steady aqua gaze that was fixed on him somehow encouraged him to speak.

"I... I'm having a hard time understanding everything..." he started out gradually.

Quatre sat up and turned to place his full attention on Milliardo. "What do you mean...?"

Shifting uneasily under the boy's gaze, Milliardo locked his attention on the lake. The way the wind made soft ripples across the clear water calmed him enough to where he could answer. "Well... I suppose I'm really just having difficulty understanding you..." He glanced back at the curious expression on Quatre's face and knew he had to explain better. "I was beyond cruel to you... I used you... Lied to you.. Then I refused to believe you, and tortured you for something you had no part in... You were the victim the entire time..."

His mind flashed to the horrid dream he had and shuddered when he realized how close it had gotten to becoming a reality. He sat up straight only to slump forward slightly as his own conscience caught up with all of his actions. After a moment of silent thought his eyes met the aqua gaze focused on him and frowned in confusion. "Yet here we are now... And you're treating me like a guest instead of a prisoner... You had every right to give the order to shoot me the moment we arrived here, but you didn't... Instead you somehow talked your men into treating me civilly, and made sure that I was taken care of..." Milliardo looked away and sighed deeply. "I just don't understand how you can do that after everything I've done to you..."

Quatre had listened quietly, and once his companion had finished he hummed softly. "Yeah.. I can see how that can be confusing...." he muttered as he slowly got up from his seat on the rock.

When he heard the boy move, Milliardo watched curiously as the young Arabian moved closer and sat himself right next to him on the sand. "What are you do-" He was cut off by a thin bandaged finger pressed against his lips.

"Listen, Mr. Peacecraft..." Quatre started on a hushed tone. "I'm fully aware that part of it was due to Benson manipulating us... I don't blame you for that..." He pulled his hand away and let out a deep sigh of his own. "And I know that it was partially my fault... I shouldn't have messed with your head like I did..." he whispered as he glanced away briefly. "I went too far, and for that I apologize..."

"Apologize...?" Milliardo repeated in shock. "Mr. Winner, I nearly had you beaten to death..."

"Hardly, Mr. Peacecraft..." Quatre weakly chuckled. He took hold of Milliardo's bandaged hand in his own and gently laced their fingers together. "My injuries will heal with time... However I intentionally used psychological scare tactics to manipulate you... Drugged you and purposely made you think that you were alone... That I was going to use you and no one would help you..."

He looked up into the icy blue depths watching him and smiled sadly. "I could have just drugged you and waited for you to simply fall asleep, but I didn't... I had no desire to harm you... But at the same time I wanted you to think I did. I was angry, and I let my emotions cloud my morals. I'm sorry for the torment I placed you through... You didn't deserve that no matter how angry I was..." Quatre whispered as he tightened his grip on the larger hand.

The heartfelt words left Milliardo in a state of awe as he looked down at their joined hands. He knew well that psychological torture lasted longer than physical, and normally did far more damage. Personally he didn't really approve of those methods unless it was for special cases, and now he knew first hand that Quatre seemed to have the same opinion of it.

He gently ran his thumb over Quatre's bandaged hand as he hummed softly in thought. "I guess we both went too far in our own ways... We were too concerned with retaliating against one another that we were blinded from the fact we were both being targeted..." Milliardo conceded quietly.

"Heh.. That sounds about right..." Quatre chuckled. "And here we're supposed to be the two greatest tactical minds of our era... It's kind of funny, really... In a twisted sort of way..."

Milliardo laughed softly and nodded. "Twisted indeed. At least now everything has been settled for the most part...." Part of him wanted to discuss the offer that Quatre had made him back at the plane, but he wasn't quite ready for that discussion yet.

Instead he simply enjoyed the warmth of he felt from the small body lightly leaning against him. His eyes flickered between their laced fingers and the lake in front of them. The scene was very calming, and for a brief moment he wondered if it was all a dream. It was the only rational explanation he could give the way things had turned out. _'If it is a dream it's a pretty nice one... But I still don't understand why...'_

"So how did you convince your men not to string me up...? I expected that Rashid guy to have had my head on a platter by now..." he asked lightly. He was actually still wary of that happening.

Quatre giggled softly and rested his head on the man's strong shoulder. "I told them that I like you." he answered simply.

The older blonde glanced down at the smirking face looking back up at him and quirked up an eyebrow. "That's it...? You just told them you liked me and that's all it took...?"

A cheeky grin spread over the battered face. "That's it." When he saw those pale eyes roll dramatically Quatre nudged him in the side with his elbow. "Hey, being called 'Master Quatre' isn't without its perks." he quipped.

"Apparently..." Milliardo mused. "So now what...?"

"Now...? Nothing, really..." Quatre inched himself to sit a bit closer to his enemy, and let his gaze settle on the lake. "Just enjoy the quiet, Mr. Peacecraft... I think we've both earned a few moments of peace..." he whispered as he let his eyes drift closed.

Milliardo watched the small smile that curled the bruised lips. He looked completely content there, so Milliardo sighed softly and glanced around their surroundings. The breeze that blew through the scattered trees was surprisingly cool as it traveled over the lake. It caressed Milliardo's face and made both his and Quatre's long bangs sway gently. The sun over head didn't seem as harsh as it had the past few days, and the sweet scent of some unknown flower filled the air around them.

He had to admit that it was incredibly peaceful, but Milliardo was still wary of the army that was stationed just across the lake. _'He said that they wouldn't try anything against me, but how can I be that sure...?' _

As he thought that he noticed Auda walking along the other side of the lake next to another man who was wearing a pair of dark round sunglasses. They both suddenly looked in his direction and Milliardo was certain it looked strange with him holding Quatre's hand while the boy was leaning against him. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Milliardo looked away and bowed his head in a lame attempt to hide the fact his face was becoming heated.

He hesitantly glanced back towards the pair across the lake through his long bangs. He quickly spotted the knowing smirks on both their faces, and the one with the sunglasses gave a long sharp whistle. "Wooo! Go Master Quatre! Keep that up and we'll win the war!" he jeered loudly, which echoed through the entire oasis.

Milliardo's eyes grew wide at the shouted words as the blush on his face grew brighter. "That did not just happen..." he muttered to himself in embarrassment.

Quatre's free arm suddenly rose up, and he made his middle finger very visible. "Fuck you, Abdul! Don't make me have Rashid go over there and kick your ass!" the young Arabian called out, his eyes still closed.

"Heh, wouldn't be the first time!" Auda laughed as he knocked Abdul's hat off his head.

"Won't be the last! As you were!" Quatre chuckled in reply, actually snuggling himself closer to the White Fang leader.

Milliardo watched blankly as the pair of Maguanacs gave a mock salute before laughing as they went on their way. He turned his attention back to the rebel cuddling against him with a bemused expression on his face. "Does that happen often...?"

"Every day... Don't mind them. They're assholes. Well intentioned, but assholes all the same." Quatre laughed softly. "It's like having thirty-nine older brothers to pick on me. Rashid's like the father of our group. I think I get all the special treatment since I'm the smallest. It's a pretty sweet set up."

"Sounds like it... They're not going to say anything about you being this close to me...?"

"Nothing other than the mandatory cat-call. Don't concern yourself over it. You're safe here, Mr. Peacecraft. I promise." Quatre told him reassuringly, tightening his grip on the man's hand to strengthen his words.

The soft promise actually made Milliardo smile slightly. "I believe you, Mr. Winner..." With that he returned to gazing out over the lake as he enjoyed the quiet that surrounded them.

Something in the back of his mind couldn't help but point out that this was all very familiar. For some reason he kept getting a feeling of deja vu. The warmth and weight of the Arabian's body was something that he vaguely recognized. It had been nagging him since the moment Quatre attempted to make physical contact with him. _'Why do I feel like I've held him like this before...? His tone.. His eyes... And that smirk... Where have I seen it before...?'_

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall ever meeting Quatre anywhere else. But that feeling was still there. _'I guess it really doesn't matter... I do enjoy this... I... I enjoy being with him...' _he finally admitted to himself.

With that thought in mind, Milliardo tightened his grip slightly on the smaller hand and let his head rest on the one propped on his shoulder. When he heard the purring hum that left the Arabian he found himself smiling. His eyes then drifted closed as he focused on the warm body beside him.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Milliardo truly felt safe.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

Aww, how sweet.

But how long will the warm fuzzies last?

I dunno

Later


	9. Perhaps

What What? And update to this old thing?

Yes. I fail. _*hangs head in shame*_

Anywho, yeah, Was writing a prequel to go with chapter, but since that has stalled, I have decided to forgo the prequel For the sake of finishing this one.

So without further babbling:

Enjoy~

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 9

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

"This is so fucked up..."

"Now what exactly is so fucked up about it, Mr. Peacecraft?" Quatre asked lightly as he placed three cards on the small table that separated him from the White Fang leader.

Milliardo gave the blonde rebel a very sarcastic glare while rearranging the cards in his hand. "I'm the infamous leader of a large brutal military group, and I'm sitting here in the middle of the desert playing cards with one of my greatest and most elusive enemies while I'm waiting for one of my soldiers, who's really a traitor in disguise, to wake up so you can interrogate him... And you ask me what's fucked up about it?" he grunted loudly as he placed his glare now on the cards he was holding onto.

Quatre chuckled lightly as he leaned on his elbows against the edge of their card table. "With all the shit that's gone on in this war this is the most fucked up thing you've been through? Heh, you've been very sheltered, my dear Mr. Peacecraft. Oh, it's your turn."

Muttering curses under his breath, Milliardo glanced at his cards for a moment. "Got any fives?"

"Go fish."

"Dammit..." He reached out with his heavily bandaged right hand to draw a card from the deck that was in the middle of the table. "What do you mean I've been very sheltered?" Milliardo asked as he placed the king he drew with the other one in his hand. "Are you meaning to tell me you've been through stranger shit?"

The younger pilot nodded as a wide grin spread across his battered face. "Picture, if you will, having to infiltrate a girl's boarding school that's the front of an Oz military operation." He then held up three of his bandaged fingers before his continued. "Three weeks I had to pose as a girl attending classes. In that time I was stalked by a group of lesbians, attacked by psychotic teacher, and got my cover blown." When he finished Quatre thoroughly enjoyed the look of shock on Milliardo's face.

Although shock was a major understatement when he finally realized what the boy was referring to. "I was stationed at that base once..."

"Ya don't say..." Quatre said, his grin intact. "Anything interesting happen?"

Milliardo snorted as he sat down four cards. "At first, no... But then I met this one student there that turned out to be a spy..." Now that he thought about the girl student's face he froze. His gaze immediately shot back to the coyly smirking Arabian where he focused on the vivid aqua color. "Those eyes... Oh my god.. That means.. That was you?_!_" he nearly shouted when he really remembered what happened at that base.

Not answering at first, Quatre reached up and parted his long bangs to frame his face. His expression then turned heated and his eyes became half lidded. "You probably won't see me again after tonight.. But I'll be watching you, Zechs.. Always.." he whispered huskily in a slightly feminine pitched voice.

Milliardo could only stare at the blonde rebel for a moment, but then a bright blush crept onto his face when everything finally sank in. "Oh God..." he finally muttered as his cards fell from his hand.

Quatre got an almost smug look on his face as he watched his enemy come to terms with what he told him. "Something wrong, Mr. Peacecraft? You look a bit... Flustered."

"Flustered?" Milliardo repeated as he gripped at the edge of the table. "I think I'm a bit more than flustered at the moment..."

"Heh, you seemed to enjoy it rather well back then." Quatre muttered as he took a peek at the cards that the man had been holding. "So there are those kings I was looking for." He plucked the kings from the table and placed them in his hand. "Your turn, Mr. Peacecraft." he informed him as he placed four kings on the table.

Stunned at how calm the blonde rebel was treating the matter, Milliardo was at a loss for what to say. "How the hell can you expect me to play this stupid game after what you just told me?_!_" he exclaimed. His mind was so jumbled with different ideas and notions, but now he knew where that feeling of familiarity with the youth came from. _'God.. I really know now...'_

Quatre sighed and laid his hand down on the table. "I suppose you're right. I know how you react under... pressure." he snickered and had to dodge the swat that the white fang leader threw at him.

"Damn you, Winner.." Milliardo growled. Quatre was actually making fun of him now just to add insult to injury, but for some reason he wasn't really angry. No, Milliardo found himself even more intrigued by the boy now that he knew the truth. _'Maybe he was serious about that offer after all..' _The possibility led to so many new questions that had to be answered. "Why did you do it?"

"Why? Heh, I don't know if you noticed this or not, but you are a very attractive man, Mr. Peacecraft..." Quatre started as he leaned against the table. "I weighed my options when you spotted me, and I figured the one I chose to be the most.. Enjoyable one."

That made his cracked lips twitch into a smile, but Milliardo needed one more question answered. "So your offer back at the plane?"

Quatre winked at the blonde man and nodded. "I meant every word. And I'm still waiting for an answer, Mr. Peacecraft." he purred as he moved his leg under the table and brushed his bare foot along the man's jean clad calf.

Ice blue eyes grew wide at the sudden flirting touch but he didn't pull away from it. "I see... Exactly how much are you offering?"

"How much do you want, Mr. Peacecraft?" Quatre asked in a seductive whisper.

Milliardo felt his heart pick up speed as the rebel's foot kept stroking at his leg teasingly. "Do I have time to think about it?" his voice cracked slightly the higher the foot went.

An evil grin spread across the scratched face and he held out his hand with fingers spread. "You have 5 seconds. After that I'm taking your silence as a yes... Five... Four..."

When the boy started counting down Milliardo suddenly forgot how to move. His eyes grew wide when Quatre suddenly hoisted himself onto the table and started crawling towards him. "Umm.. Mr. Winner?"

Quatre shook his head and purred out. "Call me Quatre... Three... Two..." Before he said one, Quatre's hands shot out and grabbed hold of the white t-shirt the man wore so he could pull him into a deep brutal kiss.

At first Milliardo was at a loss of what to do, but soon he got involved with the forceful kiss and wrapped his arms around the blonde boy. He pulled Quatre's slender frame closer to him until he felt his warm weight settling on his lap. A pair of surprisingly strong hands fisted tightly in his hair, causing Milliardo to groan deeply against Quatre's mouth. Soon the grip began to tighten as his head was pulled back.

Pulled away from the kiss, Milliardo gasped and gritted his teeth when he felt the hot mouth work along his neck. "Quatre... God... What do you want?" he asked as he closed his eyes and held the writhing body tightly against him. Despite what the rebel answered he was fairly certain he'd cave into whatever the blonde desired. _'Feels too good.. I'm tried of fighting it...'_

Quatre let out a soft chuckle before breathing hotly in the man's ear. "I want you, Milliardo... I've wanted you from the beginning... That's the only reason why I took that mission.. So I could have a chance to be close to you again..." he purred as he grinded his hips down on the man's lap.

Becoming very aroused almost too quickly, Milliardo grabbed tightly to the narrow hips and was tempted to grind himself against the firm ass. "Alright... I accept your offer, Quatre... Do what you want..." he groaned out loudly.

"Mmm.. You won't regret it, Milliardo.. I promise..." Quatre whispered as he pried the tight grip off his hips.

When he felt the rebel crawl off his lap he looked only to feel all his blood rush to his groin as he watched the young blonde sink down to his knees in front of him. "Quatre... Do it..." he whispered in a husky tone when the rebel moved between his thighs.

Quatre smirked as he reached out to unbutton the man's pants. "Oh I plan on it, Milliardo... Been wanting to do this again for a long time..." he purred while looking into the icy lust filled gaze. After a moment of looking into one another's eyes, Quatre looked down to focus on his task.

Milliardo reached out and threaded his fingers in the short soft hair before he let his head roll back. His eyes closed slowly as he awaited the rebel to start, and moaned deeply when he soon felt a warm wet touch. "Oh god.. Quatre... Yes.. Quatre..."

_fjfjfj_

"Quatre... Don't stop..."

Quatre had to bite his already injured lip to keep from laughing at what was taking place in front of him.

Standing inside Milliardo's tent, Quatre was watching with his hand covering his mouth as the man moaned softly on the cot. A rather large smile was on the white fang leader's face, so whatever the man was dreaming Quatre was sure it had to be pretty interesting to get that kind of reaction out of him. He was almost tempted to just leave Milliardo to finish out his dream in peace. Almost.

It didn't take his empathy to tell that whatever that playing in the man's mind was arousing him. In fact Quatre found this moment too good to pass up. _'Hmm.. Maybe it's time for that little bit of fun I had planned on...'_ he thought as he slowly approached the cot.

Once he was standing next to the cot he pondered if he should wake up the man or tend to the slight tent that he could clearly make out through the blanket. _'No... He may be dreaming about me, but I can't take advantage of him in his sleep... Well.. At least not with me as injured as I am... Maybe later when I've healed some.'_ he thought evilly. After the man let out another moan that was a bit louder, Quatre quickly made up his mind. "Better wake him before the others start thinking something really is going on in here." he concluded as he reached out to brush the long bangs out of Milliardo's scratched face.

"Mr. Peacecraft... Wake up, Mr. Peacecraft..." he said softly in the hopes it would be enough. He didn't want to risk things going too far too soon by trying the same stunt he did the day before. Although he was more than willing to go as far as the man wanted, his injured body would probably protest the entire time.

As the seconds ticked by he saw that Milliardo was slowly beginning to stir from his sleep, so began caressing the uninjured places on the man's cheeks. "Come on, Mr. Peacecraft, it's time to wake up." he said a bit louder. The lust he felt pouring off the man was almost enough to make him forget his previous decision, but he forced himself to stay calm before he got carried away.

Icy blue eyes fluttered open on hearing the voice, but when he saw Quatre hovering over him he suddenly realized that he had been dreaming._ 'Everything was a dream...? Dammit... I feel like an idiot now...' _his foggy mind muttered to himself as he reached up to rub at his eyes. "Nnn.. What time is it?" he asked in a grunt.

"Almost ten." Quatre answered as he knelt down next to the cot. "So... What were you dreaming about? Sounded pretty interesting." he said with a slight smirk.

Milliardo's eyes grew wide as a faint blush tinted his cheeks. "Uh.. I was talking in my sleep?" he asked hesitantly. He remembered most of the things he said in his dream, and if he actually said them out loud he was certain he'd probably never hear the end of it. _'Oh shit... But.. Is it necessarily a bad thing...?'_

Quatre sensed the slight curiosity mixed with the embarrassment and laughed softly. "A little bit.. You said my name a few times. Made me wonder what I was doing in your dream." He rested his elbows on the edge of the cot and propped his chin up on his hands. "I don't suppose you'd mind telling me, hm?" he asked innocently as he stared straight into the wide pale eyes.

"Um.. I.. I don't remember..." he lied through his teeth. The sarcastic look he got from the rebel showed that Quatre wasn't buying it one bit, so he sighed and decided to be at least partially honest. "We were playing cards... And you told me about one of your past missions..." he muttered as he looked away. He wondered just how much he should say and how much he should leave in the dream.

Quirking up a cut brow, Quatre wondered what mission he could have possibly disclosed that would lead to a wet dream. "Oh really? And what did I say?" he asked slowly and wondered if it could possibly be what he thought it was. _'There's no way... How would he make that kind of connection in a dream...?'_

Although he was still embarrassed by it all, Milliardo sat up on the cot, and tried to ignore the massive hard on that he was certain the rebel had noticed by now. "It's ridiculous really... You told me that you posed as a girl at an all girl boarding school that was the cover for an Oz base." he muttered. What got to him was that he really was stationed at a base that was at a girl's boarding school. And there really was a spy. _'Maybe I just used that as a way to justify what I did...'_ he thought briefly.

The moment Milliardo told him a wide smirk played over Quatre's lips. "I did." he said calmly.

"What?" Milliardo quickly looked back and saw the knowing smirk on the boy's face. "You mean.. Cassie...? That really was you?"

"That's right." Quatre said simply with the smirk still in place.

Unable to do anything but stare blankly for a moment, Milliardo let himself fall back onto the cot. "I don't believe this..." he muttered as he hid his eyes in the crook of his arm.

Quatre chuckled and watched the man calmly. "What's not to believe, Mr. Peacecraft? So we know each other a bit more... Intimately. It was a set of different circumstances back then. Besides, that was Zechs. A completely different person." he pointed out to try and lessen some of the unease within the man's mind.

Milliardo snorted and lifted his arm to look over at the rebel. "So you're saying that it had nothing to do with your offer back at the plane?"

"Perhaps..." Quatre admitted. "Let's just say that it encouraged me to try again since you seemed to be interested in me."

"And when were you planning to tell me about it?"

"I wasn't. I wanted you to accept the offer I made because you wanted me. Not because of an alias that I once used." Quatre said as he began to stand up straight. Before he was all the way standing a bandaged hand grabbed onto his arm and he found himself staring into confused but interested eyes. "Yes, Mr. Peacecraft?"

For a moment he couldn't think of what he wanted to say, but the longer he looked up at the familiar blue gaze he soon found himself speaking. "So that was a serious offer? Not just a ploy to distract me while you were my prisoner?" Milliardo asked, needing to know before he attempted to make any kind of decision.

An genuine smile formed on Quatre's healing lips as he nodded. "I meant every word, Mr. Peacecraft. And I'm still waiting for an answer..."

Almost shuddering at how that was the second time he heard the rebel say those words, Milliardo sat up and decided to take a risk. "Do I have time to think about it?" he asked. Wondering if his dream was really foretelling the future. _'God I hope so...'_

Quatre kept his smile in place and cupped the man's face with his free hand. "Take as long as you need. I have no plans of retracting it anytime soon." he said only to be become confused at the sudden disappointment that he sensed from the man. _'Was he expecting something else...?'_

Although he was disappointed a little, Milliardo knew this was a better course than his dream. Neither of them were in any sort of shape to really enjoy anything thoroughly, and the last thing he wanted was to cause Quatre more unnecessary pain._ 'It's a miracle that he still wants anything to do with me after everything I've done... But perhaps I really should consider his offer seriously...' _"Okay... I'll think it over... Now what?" he asked since he was at a loss of what to do or say.

"Well, that's up to you, Mr. Peacecraft. We could go get something from the mess tent... Or if you want you can go back to sleep and return to that dream you were having." Quatre offered, and was curious as to the man's response. The fact that Milliardo had yet to let go of his arm encouraged him a great deal.

Milliardo also noticed that he was still holding onto the bruised arm, and for a moment he went over what he truly wanted. After a few seconds he lightly pulled the rebel closer and had him bring his face in closer. "I think I'd prefer the real thing..." he whispered as he finally closed the spaced between them in a gentle kiss.

Quatre leaned into the kiss, but didn't push for anything more than the tender contact. He was more thrilled that Milliardo was acting on his own. He didn't have to use his empathy or flirt with him. He wasn't hiding behind an alias. Milliardo was kissing him because he wanted to. _'Allah... This is better than I could hope for...' _he thought as he threaded his fingers through the long locks.

After a long very sensual moment, Quatre pulled away from the kiss and smiled. "Mmm.. So now what?" he whispered, still gently petting back the man's hair.

Enjoying the attention more than he thought possible, Milliardo wrapped his arms around the slender body. "I don't really care... I just don't want you to leave." he admitted, staring deeply into the aqua eyes watching him.

Sensing the faint desperation coupled with loneliness made Quatre's heart ache. Without prompting he moved to straddle the man's lap and made himself comfortable. He rested his head on Milliardo's shoulder as he held on firmly. "I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Peacecraft..." he whispered as he placed soft kisses to the man's neck.

Milliardo held on to the small frame like his life depended on it. It had been so long since he was simply held close just for sake of that gentle intimacy. In fact, the last time had been the school girl that the Arabian had posed as. He found himself starved for a little tenderness, so the moment he felt the attentive kisses being placed on his neck Milliardo was willing to do anything just to keep it.

The warmth and security it brought him was something he had never truly felt before. It was like it was the first time anyone had showed him any kindness without wanting something else in return. All that Quatre wanted was the kindness returned, which was a request Milliardo was more than willing to oblige now.

It felt good to hold onto the young rebel, like Milliardo was actually protecting him. _'Feels like it did with Cassie... Maybe I do have something left to protect...'_ he mused when he thought back to the conversation they had during a sunset. His hands slowly rubbed down the Arabian's back, and it made him smile when he felt Quatre doing the same to him. _'Quatre probably thinks he's protecting me... He probably is... Protecting me from myself...'_

"Thank you, Mr. Winner." Milliardo found himself saying before he really knew what he was doing.

"Hmm.. For what?" Quatre asked between his kisses.

Gently pulling the youth away from him, Milliardo looked into the curious eyes and smiled. "Everything... You saved me again. Probably in more ways than one. And for still giving me this chance..."

"Shh..." Quatre cut in softly. "Don't say anything else. Just enjoy this." he told him quietly as he moved in for another kiss.

Responding readily to the gentle contact, Milliardo gave a soft hum of pleasure. _'Quatre's right... Just enjoy the moment... Just like he said back then...'_

He had no idea what would happen afterwards, nor did he particularly care. All that Milliardo knew was that he felt content.

Perhaps even happy.

Perhaps.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

Aww.. Happiness~

Anywho, I will get this finished _*determined pose*_

And maybe finish the prequel so you know what the hell is going on.

Later~


	10. Bit of a turn on

Wootles, more updatage~

Enjoy~

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 10

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

"So why did you do it?"

"Hm...?" Looking up from the book he was glancing through, Quatre turned towards his companion laying on his back next to him on a white blanket. "Why did I do what?" he asked curiously.

Gazing at the specks of blue sky between the thick palm leaves above him, Milliardo folded his arms behind his head as he answered. "Join the war. I know you said you thought you could make a difference..." He glanced over at the young Arabian sitting next to him. "But what made you feel like you had to?"

Setting his book aside, Quatre hummed thoughtfully as he recalled the events that lead to where he was now. "It was the Maguanac corps that really inspired me. When I was younger I was spoiled rotten. Lazy, belligerent, and constantly ignoring what was happening to everyone else around me.." he admitted a bit reluctantly.

Milliardo glanced over to see the deeply brooding expression on the young pilot's face. "That doesn't sound like you at all." In fact it sounded like the exact opposite of the Arabian that he knew.

Quatre chuckled as he pulled his knees up close to his chest. "I know. I was absolutely horrid. Made as much of a nuisance of myself as I possibly could.. Hard to believe that was only three years ago."

"So what about the Maguanacs changed you?"

"Hm.. I think it was the fact they were risking their lives to protect their family. They were facing down odds that were certainly going to spell doom for them, but they didn't back down. They had pride in themselves and what they stood for." Quatre rested his chin on his drawn up knees as he thought of the way Rashid had finally reprimanded him. "I couldn't say any of that for myself. I didn't know what it meant to suffer or to go without anything. After I saw how they were willing to give their lives to their cause... It made me wonder what I had done to justify my existence."

"And..?" Milliardo prompted lightly.

Quatre let out a soft laugh and shook his head. "I had not done a single thing that even earned me the right to breathe. So when I saw that one of their own was betraying them I saw it as a chance to do at least one good thing. To do something that would give me pride in myself." he concluded simply.

"I think it was probably more than one good thing you did. Auda told me you took a bullet for the captain.."

The Arabian's hand absently drifted to his left shoulder. "I did. That's probably when I really changed.." Quatre glanced back at Milliardo and smirked. "Before then I had never experienced real pain. It made me realize that I was just as vulnerable as anyone else, and that others were going through that kind of pain constantly. It was an eye opening experience. Left me with a new outlook on life. That's when I began seriously looking into the war."

Seeing the way the ocean colored eyes darkened slightly, Milliardo sat up to give the boy his full attention. "What do you mean?"

Quatre hadn't thought their conversation would take this turn, but he pressed on. "I began studying the articles pertaining to the casualties of the war. I started with the Heero Yuy assassination and got my hands on every piece of information that I could. The Maxwell church massacre, the battle at the L-5 colony..." He trailed off and looked down to the blanket they were on. "Even the fall of the Peacecraft Kingdom... I read every file and report." Quatre forced himself to look at Milliardo and easily sensed the alarm and sorrow pouring off him. "I was horrified that so many lost so much. So I made my decision to become involved. I had the naive hope that if I tried hard enough then my loved ones would be spared." he finished before bowing his head once more.

Knowing that Quatre was thinking of his own father's death, Milliardo frowned in sympathy. "At least you tried... Not many can say that. Myself included."

But Quatre was quick to shake his head. "No. You were too young to have been able to do something, Mr. Peacecraft. None of it was your fault. I just feel as if my involvement may have pushed things to escalate.. My father was so angry with me before it happened." Quatre lifted his head slowly and looked towards the sky. "One of the last things he said to me was that he had no son... That I was a disgrace and that it was my fault our home was in such peril..."

Milliardo's frown deepened as he moved to sit closer to the Arabian. "You know that's not true."

"Maybe not for then, but this extended war is still my fault. If I hadn't built Zero, then it would have ended. Lady Une was working towards peace. Treize Khushrenada was trying to make Romerfeller rethink their tactics.." Quatre's gaze settled on the man beside him and a halfhearted smile tugged onto his face. "And you were even considering joining Lady Une. When I began my rampage it ruined all chances of this war ending quickly.."

He wanted to deny that, but it was the truth. Milliardo knew very well that the Zero attacks stirred a great deal more conflicts at a time where they were being slowly solved. "Perhaps, but I'm the one continuing it now.. It's not entirely on your shoulders... And no one can say for certain what could have happened. You shouldn't dwell over things like that. It accomplishes nothing."

Quatre nodded thoughtfully. "True. What I've done can't be taken back. I can only hope that the decisions I make now I won't regret later."

The way his tone dropped slightly made Milliardo curious. "You mean like saving me?"

Shaken out of his dour thoughts, Quatre immediately smiled and shook his head. "No." He gently took hold of the man's larger hand and held to it firmly. "I'm certain that I'll look back on that as one of the greatest things I've accomplished." he whispered, leaning towards the older blonde slowly.

Picking up his cue, Milliardo leaned forward as well as a smirk curled his lips. "I know that I won't forget it." he mumbled as he steadily closed the space between them.

"Master! Master Quatre!"

Milliardo barely held back his snicker as he observed the annoyed frustration that was apparent over the young Arabian's pale face. "Sounds like you're needed." he stated coyly.

Glaring at the Whitefang leader for a brief moment, Quatre slowly forced himself to stand, muttering curses the entire time. "Ya khorg... You're just jealous 'cause my forces call me master." he grunted, but still held his hand out to help his companion stand.

Chuckling lightly, Milliardo took the scraped hand and was soon standing close to the rebel. "Yes, that's it. You've figured me out completely." he quipped, placing a kiss to the pale forehead before pulling away.

Although his sarcasm annoyed him, Quatre was left smirking at the brief display of intimacy. Ignoring the hint of playfulness, Quatre turned his attention to where Abdul was rushing towards them. "What is it, Abdul? Did something happen...?" he asked when he sensed the distress that the man was feeling.

Pointing back towards the medical tents, Abdul called out "The prisoner has woken up! The guy's fuckin crazy! He won't stop screaming!"

"Screaming...?" Quatre repeated in surprise. When he finally focused his senses on something other than Milliardo he soon felt incredibly violent emotions rolling from their camp._ 'Damn, Milliardo's distracting my senses...' _he thought as he headed for the camp. "Has he said anything coherent?"

Abdul snorted as he kept up with his young master's fast pace. "Nothing that I can repeat in polite company. He's pissing off everyone, and he's only been conscious for ten minutes."

"Sounds enchanting." Milliardo said sarcastically. Only a few steps behind the two Arabians as they made their way to the medical tent, he was intent on facing the man that had manipulated him. _'If I hadn't agreed to let them have the bastard I would snap his neck...'_

Soon they were approaching the medical tent, but they had to stop when the entrance flaps practically ripped open. "Let me at him! I'll tear off what's left of his legs!" an outraged voice growled loudly.

Seconds later they saw Rashid walking out of the tent, but he was dragging Auda out as well by the back of his shirt. "Auda! Calm down this instant! That man is only attempting to provoke everyone!" he stated in a booming voice.

"Well it worked! I'm gonna rip his tongue out!" Auda snapped as he attempted to pry his shirt out of his captain's large hand.

Before he could, Rashid wrapped one of his massive arms around the shorter man's waist and quickly locked up Auda's right arm. "That was an order, soldier!"

Auda still struggled against the rock solid hold on him, but Quatre was quick to step forward. "It's okay, Rashid.. Let me have a word with Auda." he said calmly.

Now that his master was here, Rashid physically lifted Auda off the ground and turned him to face the smallest maguanac. There he released him and took a step back. "As you wish, Master Quatre." he stated with a slight bow. He knew what the blonde boy was up to. _'He'll be able to calm him down.'_

Auda was still seething with anger, but seeing his injured master approaching him made him pause. "Master Quatre, that guy is slandering our good name! We can't let him get away with thi-" Before he could finish his sentence a pair of small bandaged hands reached up and cupped his face.

Quatre looked into his friend and comrade's dark eyes and smiled gently. He had the man lean forward then moved to whisper into his ear. "The words of a single fool cannot tarnish the maguanac corps. Let the fool babble. We control what happens to him. He can do us no harm. If it comes to that point, I'll let you and the others decide his fate... But for now we need this puppet to dance for us." he explained patiently. He allowed a little of his empathy to reach out and soothe Auda's anger just enough to calm him.

Once he was thinking a bit more clearly, Auda blinked out of the haze his thoughts had fallen into. "You.. You're right, Master. I'm sorry I lost my composure." he whispered before bowing his head in shame.

Quatre tilted up the man's head and gave a light glare. "No, Auda. You have every right to be angry. Just don't let it consume you like that. It gives him the control."

The wise words soon had Auda smiling as he placed his hands over the smaller ones still on his face.. "I understand, Master."

"Good. Now you and Abdul keep everyone away from here. I'm going to have a little chat with our rude guest." Quatre added with a sly look.

Knowing that look well, Auda was soon smirking evilly. "One of those chats, huh...? Alrighty then. Now I almost feel sorry for the bastard." he chuckled before pulling away.

A soft snort left the blond as he folded his arms over his chest. "You should. I plan on ripping this guy apart slowly."

"Damn, wish I could watch, but me and Abdul will keep everyone clear." Auda turned to his partner and gestured towards the large group that was starting to rally closer to the screams. "Let's get going, Abdul!"

"Right!"

As the two men ran towards the other maguanacs and workers to explain the situation, Quatre faced his captain. "Rashid, would you say extreme measures are required?" he inquired lightly.

Rashid was about to reply when a screeching yell cut him off.

"ALL YOU CAMEL FUCKING MUSLIMS ARE GONNA DIE!"

The captain's eyes narrowed deeply as he looked to his young master. "Very extreme measures are necessary, Master."

Quatre clapped his hands together and smiled sweetly. "Then that's settled. I'll make him wish I had killed him back at the plane. Come along, Mr. Peacecraft. You'll see how I deal with real prisoners."

Although he was a bit hesitant, Milliardo found himself stepping forward when the giant man gestured for him to go into the tent ahead of him. From what he could tell, Rashid didn't seem to have any ill will towards him. _'From what Quatre said it seems as if everyone is giving me the benefit of the doubt...'_

Inside the tent they saw the medical staff clutching at their ears as the man that was strapped to the medical bed gave ear piercing cries. His upper half thrashed about wildly against the restraints, but his legs were still from where they were heavily bandaged and strapped to the bed. Quatre stood in front of the doctors and nurses and gestured for them to leave. They all readily did so, the head physician wordlessly handing the boy a medical chart before guiding a distraught nurse out of the tent.

The young Arabian began glancing over the chart while his prisoner kept shouting the most obscene and disgusting things Milliardo had ever heard. "Ye god, he's insane..." Milliardo muttered, having to cover his own ears as Benson kept screeching.

Quatre stood there calmly as his eyes went line by line over the chart the doctor gave him. "Rashid, see if you can get him upright. I'll let you decide how." His voice was rather casual despite the intense hatred and general ugliness he felt radiating off the lunatic. _'I won't be manipulated by him any longer.'_ he thought firmly.

"Yes, Master Quatre." Rashid moved to the bed and began tightening the restraints on the prisoner until they nearly cut off his circulation. He then moved to the head of the bed, and with one hand he tilted it up until it was standing vertical on its end. He took hold of the sides and easily held it still despite the man's struggling. "Will this suffice?"

Glancing up from the chart, Quatre smirked at his captive's position. "Yes, that will do nicely. Thank you." He handed the chart to Milliardo and approached the prisoner.

Benson saw the boy approaching him and began laughing. "Well, if it isn't that little blond bitch... How many of these filthy Arabs hafta bend you over to earn that fancy title, hm? How many dicks had to fit in that pretty little mouth of yours? Bet you were real good to get the infamous Captain Rashid to call you master."

Those words had both Rashid and Milliardo glaring at the man in anger, but they were stopped from saying anything when Quatre calmly lifted his hand. "Aren't you charming? I suggest you quit now before I lose what's left of my patience." he said rather sedately.

"Oh, I'm scared." Benson spat out. "What are you going to do, fag? Get your pimp here to beat me up?" His mad gaze then locked on the White fang leader. "Or maybe you'll sic that prick on me? I know he had to be keeping you alive for a reason. I saw you all over him. Fuckin filthy bastard. I knew you had to be a whore." A sadistic grin formed on his stubbly features now that he focused his attention on the blond man. "How does the mighty White fang leader feel now? All your men are dead, and now you're at the mercy of a bunch of goat fucking terrorists. What'd you do to save your own skin? Take it in the ass from your little blond bitch boy?"

Before Milliardo could even think to get angry at the depraved words he watched in surprise as Quatre stepped in front of the cackling man. There he reared back his right fist and dealt a hard punch straight to the man's gut. Instead of pulling away, Quatre let his fist dig deeper into Benson's stomach until the man was coughing harshly. "Are you finished, or do I have to get rough with you?" he asked, pressing his fist in a bit harder.

He waited for Benson to start gasping for air before he pulled his fist back. However he didn't give him time to recover and immediately gave a swift uppercut to Benson's jaw. The cry of pain accompanied with the cracking of teeth made him smirk. "Now let's try to be a bit more civil, shall we?"

The boy's coy tone made the prisoner growl dangerously. "Go to hell, ya fuckin fairy! I'll see every one of you rot the-GRAHH!" His statement was cut short when a strong hand clamped over the bandages on his left knee.

Pressing his thumb hard into the spot he knew the bullet wound would be, Quatre hummed softly in thought. "At the rate you're going I'm confident you'll be the one experiencing hell very soon. I'd rather not resort to torture, but if you give me no other option I'm going to see that you suffer." His voice was still calm, but his eyes were glaring right through his captive.

Milliardo was at a loss as he watched this more savage side to the boy. Earlier he had been so tender and caring, but now he was brutally efficient. _'Reminds me of the first time I saw him as Cassie... He was hot back then too...' _It was a tad sadistic, but seeing this vicious side to the young Arabian was a bit of a turn on for him. It took a little more self control to keep the smirk on his face from being too apparent.

Sensing the more amorous emotions from his new companion made a tingle of pleasure shoot down Quatre's spine. _'Hope Milliardo holds onto that later...' _he mused to himself while releasing the now blood soaked bandages. He took the antiseptic cloth that Rashid readily handed him from a nearby table and wiped the blood off his hand. "Let's start. I'm going to ask you a few simple questions. All you have to do is give me honest simple answers and I'll leave you be. If you prove to be an annoyance then I'm just going to have to make you very aware of your dire situation."

Benson's chest was heaving for breath as glared as best he could at the boy. "Like how? Cut off my head? Dismemberment? I'm not afraid of a cheap slut like you.."

A soft chuckle escaped Quatre as he shook his head. "Heavens no. All of that is far to quick. Not nearly as messy as it can really get." His hand reached out and tightly took hold of the man's swollen jaw. "I can have you begging for your life using only a cup of sand. Any idea how painful it is to have sand rubbed hard into a fresh wound...? It's like sand paper slowly grinding away your flesh... And eventually that wound keeps getting bigger." Quatre's smirk grew wider as he recalled the man's medical chart. "Or I could get really sadistic. Seems the doctors have found several pieces of metal shrapnel in your body... Wonder what would happen if I were to set you out in front of one of our high powered magnets we use for loading our cargo containers. Can you just imagine feeling all those sharp pieces of metal burrowing out of your skin...? Set you at the right angle and one is bound to slice through something vital..."

The way Benson swallowed hard as sweat began rolling down his face made Milliardo's smirk twitch wider. _'Wow.. Quatre is good... I'll have to remember the magnet thing...'_ The fact that Quatre seemed so skilled at this puzzled him, but he did enjoy watching the evil expression on the scratched face. His tone and movements spoke volumes of confidence. These weren't idle threats. _'He has every intention of doing this... Certainly not afraid to get his hands dirty... Makes Dorothy seem like a kitten... Wish I could have had him fighting on my side...'_ There was no end to the possibilities had Milliardo gained this boy's support from the beginning, but that was something to muse upon later.

Quatre released his grip on Benson's face and gave a light smack to his cheek. "First question. When did you infiltrate the White fang?"

"I'm not telling you anything! My comrades will find me! They'll find me and slaughter every single one of you!" Benson screamed as he renewed his struggling.

The outburst made Quatre break out laughing as he turned to walk away. "You keep telling yourself that, Benson. Your group doesn't give a shit about you. Once you lose contact you're dead to them. You never existed."

Benson became pale on hearing those words. "You're lying! They'll come for me! They'll burn this place to the ground and all of you will be begging for your miserable lives!"

Pausing once he reached the flaps of the tent, Quatre glanced over his shoulder. He could feel the fear that was beginning to form inside the deranged man, so decided to exploit it. "Heh... Alright. Let's say that they do find this place... What makes you think there's going to be anything left of you to find?" he asked almost coyly.

The threat made Benson cringe slightly, but he tried to hold on to his anger. "Like you'd murder someone... You're supposed to be the one fighting for peace, yet you shack up with this war monger... You're a weak useless slut! You don't have the balls to kill me!" he dared in a weak attempt to provoke the boy.

Instead of responding, Quatre examined his prisoner lightly before he looked to his captain. "Rashid, I think the lack of oxygen to his brain has left him with some sort of mental impairment. Could you increased the blood flow to his head?"

Smirking at the request, Rashid nodded. "I shall, Master Quatre." With some effort, Rashid rotated the entire bed on its side until Benson was left strapped to it upside down.

Startled at the new position he was in, Benson suddenly felt the bed wobbling. "Wha.. What are you doing...?" His eyes widened when he saw that the maguanac captain was now standing next to the Whitefang leader. The bed was precariously balancing on its end without any support.

Quatre hummed softly and moved to sit on his heels in front of the prisoner. "I wouldn't move too much if I were you. Might tip the bed forward. Doubt hitting the ground with a metal bed crashing on top of you would feel too pleasant in your current condition.."

He could already feel the blood rushing to his head, and his panic was steadily increasing. "You fuckin bitch!" Benson growled as he strained to keep from toppling forward.

The boy reached down and flicked the man's nose hard with his finger. "Watch your language. Keep this in mind, Benson... You've already pissed me off. I will get the information I need from you even if I have to cut you open and rip it out."

"I'm not afraid to die! Do your worst!" Benson challenged.

A sweet smile curled Quatre's lips as he lightly patted Benson's cheek. "Killing you is not my intention. I intend on making you weep like a baby while you tell me everything in that warped little head of yours." he nearly chirped in a cheery tone. Quatre then stood and lightly nudged the bed just to see Benson panic and squirm to keep from falling forward. "Heh... I think you need time to think about your options." He motioned for the pair of men to follow him out of the tent.

Once they were out of the tent Milliardo let out the laugh that he had been holding back. "Now that was entertaining. Your methods are very unique, Mr. Winner." he commented lightly.

"I like to think so." Quatre chuckled. He then addressed his captain. "Rashid, tell the medical staff to leave him like that for as long as they deem it won't cause any permanent damage. If he falls leave him until he asks for help politely."

Rashid gave an amused hum as he folded his arms over his chest. "That may take a while. What are you going to do now, Master?"

"Now? I think I'll return to that book I was reading." Quatre took hold of Milliardo's hand and began leading him back towards their blanket. "Come along, Mr. Peacecraft. I'd like to pick up where we left off earlier."

Milliardo was a bit surprised, but when he glanced back at the giant man he was even more shocked by the knowing smirk on his bearded face. _'Heh... Guess they really don't mind...'_ With that thought in his head, Milliardo laced his fingers with the smaller ones.

The firm grip he felt made him smile.

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

TBC

Vicious

translation:

Ya khorg = asshole

Later~


	11. I'll be waiting

Here we are. The last chapter.

Enjoy~

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

Chapter 11

_fjfjfjfjfjfjfjfj_

"Mr. Peacecraft..."

Milliardo kept his fingers running slowly through the short locks as he answered. "Yes, Mr. Winner?"

Snuggling a bit closer, Quatre clung tighter to the broad frame resting next to him on the cot. "I hate to bring this up... But you know we need to discuss the matter of when you wish to return to your base..." he mumbled quietly.

It was the last thing that Milliardo wanted to think of, but he let out a long sigh of resignation. "I know... Part of me doesn't want to.."

Quatre sat up a bit to look into the pale gaze. "You don't have to... You could stay here..." He reached out and tenderly caressed the man's face. "You could stay here with me... Just accept my offer..." he whispered, the longing evident in his eyes.

It pained him to see that hope in the brilliant eyes, but Milliardo had to shake his head. "I can't, Mr. Winner... No matter how much I want to..." He took hold of the small hand resting on his face. "I have to finish what I've started... I wouldn't be able to look myself in the eye if I didn't see this through to the end..."

Although the words hurt, Quatre knew what the man was saying. "I understand... Just let me know when you wish to... I'll make the arrangements." he said while bowing his bead.

Not liking the sad posture, Zechs tilted the bruised chin up and looked into the sparkling depths. They almost seemed to shimmer even in the dark. Each time he looked into them he felt his emotions for the boy grow. He knew he had to leave soon before he was too attached, but he still leaned forward to gently take Quatre's lips in a tender kiss.

Quatre moaned softly against the warm mouth and found himself on top of the man straddling his hips. Their tongues lazily twined together as they took their time tasting one another. Milliardo ran his hand down Quatre's back while the Arabian threaded his fingers into the long blond hair. Their intimate moments never progressed further than the sensual kisses and lingering touches, but neither of them minded. They were only focused on the warmth their companion provided. The fact that they were together was all that mattered to them.

After several long moments Quatre pulled away and placed wet kisses along the strong neck. "Just remember this... Don't think that because I dream of having you like this every night means that I won't kick your ass out there..."

The playful words made Milliardo chuckle. "Same goes for you... And I will admit that I've had several dreams about Cassie..." A sly smirk formed on his face as he had Quatre look at him. "I don't suppose I could get you to dress up in that little uniform again before I leave..."

Quatre glared playfully at the man and nipped at the tip of his nose. "Unfortunately I don't have the means to obtain the uniform... But I'll make a deal with you.. If you manage to capture me after you leave I'll let you keep me locked away in your quarters and I'll wear it all the time for you..."

"Oh my.. You have a deal. I did love the red streaks you had in your hair.. It was quite sexy..." Milliardo purred as he stole a few quick kisses.

"I'll make a note to do it again for you someday..."

"Please do.." Milliardo continued to kiss a line down the neck he had abused days before. His tongue ran over an old scar on the bruised skin. It was a scar he knew from his true first encounter with the rebel. How he missed it before, he had no clue, but, now that he found it, he lavished it with gentle attention as a silent apology.

He had so much to apologize for, it was ridiculous. But here he was, Quatre clinging to him like nothing wrong had happened. He still couldn't understand it. However with each lingering kiss he was steadily thinking that maybe he didn't have to understand. Just accept it for what it was.

Companionship.

'_But.. Is it really that simple..' _Milliardo never could let unanswered questions pass by.

"Dammit.. Why is this tearing me up inside..?" he asked on a whisper.

"Probably.. For the same reason it's tearing me up as well.." Quate answered as his heart pounded even as it clenched painfully in his chest. "We've already let go once.. Twice seems cruel, doesn't it..?" he questioned quietly while burying his face against the man's neck.

When he thought back to the first time they had to part ways, Milliardo couldn't deny it made the pain all the more bitter. "Perhaps.. Sooner would be better. We can't cling to this forever.. We can't hide from the war."

Quatre bit his lower lip and took a deep breath to calm himself. "I know... No matter how much both of us want it.. Dammit..." It took all of his strength, but Quatre managed to pull away. He sat up atop his enemy and looked down at him with glossy eyes. "In the morning... I'll see if Kingston is well enough to be transported. If not I'll arrange for him to be taken to the nearest hospital... You tell me which airbase you want me to deliver you to, and I'll take you there."

When it was said it only made reality crash down around them more brutally. It was harsh, and painful, but it was the truth. This couldn't last.

'_No good thing ever does.' _Milliardo came to that conclusion long ago, but it didn't make things any easier.

He nodded his consent to the offer. "Very well. In the morning..."

A sad smile curved Quatre's lips. "In the morning..." he repeated before settling back down on the strong chest. His arms wrapped firmly around his companion as he nuzzle the cords in Milliardo's neck. "Until then.. Can we pretend a little longer?"

The question had his pale eyes close as he mirrored that smile. "Yeah..." His arms wrapped firm around the slender body while he buried his face into the soft hair. "We'll pretend until morning."

_fjfjfjfj_

Morning seemed to arrive quicker than either anticipated. Neither had slept through the night. They spent every second memorizing as much as they could. The feel of the others' arms wrapped around them. The scent of their hair. The sound of the other breathing.

The warmth that felt too damn right.

Though the lights of dawn were approaching, Quatre seemed to cling tighter. He didn't want this to end. He didn't want to go back to having to hate each other. Having to hurt each other. It wasn't fair. None of this war was fair. He had a little happiness within his grasp, and he was being forced to give it up. After everything he had been through he couldn't help but feel he had already earned this. This should be his.

But it wasn't.

'_Not yet..'_

Despite the pain, the distrust, and the overwhelming odds against them...

Quatre wasn't ready to give up on this. _'This is the last time I'll let go...'_

But he still had to let go.

With a deep breath, Quatre finally began to pull away from Milliardo's warm arms. When he sat up he looked down, not surprised to see the pale eyes locked on him. They looked to one another silently for what seemed like hours. Weakly clinging to this last moment.

Milliardo found himself raising his hand, and wasn't surprised when Quatre readily took hold of it. Their fingers laced together, and he watched as the boy leaned in to place a soft kiss to his scraped knuckles. He didn't want to leave this. For the first time...

He knew he could belong somewhere.

Letting his lips linger on the man's knuckles, Quatre held on a bit tighter before he pulled away. He stood up from the cot and gave one last smile. It was sad, but genuine. He then turned to leave. Letting Milliardo's fingers slip out of his grasp.

He watched as the Arabian left. His fingers felt so cold the moment they slipped away from Quatre's. He wanted to call out. To tell Quatre he changed his mind. But he didn't. He watched silently as his companion walked out of his tent. The moment the flaps closed behind him, an overwhelming sense of loss fell over Milliardo. Quatre wasn't going to be coming back here for him.

Knowing he couldn't take things back now, Milliardo forced himself to stand. He looked around bleakly at the little he had around him, but he knew it had been enough moments before.

Shaking his head in frustration, Milliardo forced himself to get dressed. He had to get his head straight. He had made his decision. _'Even though I feel like I'm regretting it already..'_

Shortly he was stepping out of his tent and looking around at the bustling that was the diligence of Quatre's men. He knew that the young soldier had the best of the best here at his command. He wasn't worried in the least of their chances. Though their numbers were small, their skill and experience set them apart. The rest of the forces only had numbers on their side. His own included. He almost shuddered to think what Quatre would have been capable of if he had Libra under his control. _'None of us would stand a chance.'_

He set about the almost routine that he had settled into during his brief stay here. Getting food from the mess tent, greeting the smiling and polite faces that were all around him. He couldn't understand how they all could smile so easily with what they had been through at first. But all it took was to remember that last smile he had been given before Quatre left him for him to understand now. _'And I'm leaving it.'_ He had been given a chance to become a part of this...

And he was walking away. "I'm still an idiot." he mused as he picked at what was left of his breakfast.

"That may be true, but you have your reasons for it, I'm sure."

Hearing the deep voice, Milliardo froze for a moment before he turned to look back at the man towering behind where he was seated. Rashid commanded respect without a single word or move. One could sense the strength and pride that exuded from him. Milliardo had never really been intimidated in his relatively short life, but he knew this man was not someone to cross. Ever.

"... Do reasons change what being an idiot is?" Milliardo finally asked. It was clear the man wanted to speak with him. Rashid had pretty much avoided him for the duration of his stay.

A slight shrug tilted the broad shoulders. A gesture that seemed odd coming from the large man. "There are times. Doing what you think is right conflicts with what you feel is right. It could seem idiotic. Especially when you're uncertain with your choice."

Though it seemed cryptic, the words were spot on. Milliardo frowned as he turned in his seat to look at the other man properly. "When.. Don't you mean if I am uncertain?"

A thick brow arched up at the question as he folded his arms over his chest. He gave a long stare to Milliardo for a moment before he spoke. "If. If your position was different, I don't think we'd be discussing this."

Milliardo blinked and tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

A slight smirk quirked at Rashid lips. "If you were still a subordinate instead of a leader. If you were still someone else. I think we both know what your decision would have been."

His heart thudded in his chest as he was confronted with that idea. If he was still Zechs.. _'I wouldn't let anything pull me away from his side.. Not again..'_ Swallowing hard, Milliardo looked away. "So you know about that as well..."

"I know that when Master Quatre makes up his mind, nothing will change it. He has made up his mind about you." A slight frown formed over the maguanac's face as he looked seriously at the blond. "Know this. When you leave here, do not return to your place half hearted. You made your decision, you follow through with it. You face Master Quatre seriously. If you don't, it will only make him falter."

Pale blue eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you getting at..?"

"When you face off against Master Quatre again once you leave, you do it with the intent to kill."

Milliardo stared in alarm. "But.."

Rashid held up a hand to keep him silent. "You can't hold back. If you do, he will. That will prove dangerous to you both. You can't allow that. How will Master Quatre be able to focus on what he needs to do if all he can think about is why you're not trying? Neither of you can afford that distraction."

He wanted to deny it, but Milliardo knew it was the truth. He couldn't be lenient with Quatre. It would make too many suspicious. Place even more of a target on the boy's head.

He heaved a heavy breath before he nodded. "I understand..." Milliardo looked away and mulled over all the things that could possibly happen, but found the outcomes were to overwhelming to consider. "The moment we part ways, we're enemies. We will be until this war comes to an end."

The captain knew this was placing a strain on the White Fang leader. Which in a way pleased Rashid. He could see that Milliardo was torn. That meant that his intentions towards his young master were genuine. Despite the tension and the hardships, the man that Quatre had first been drawn to was still there. Even though Milliardo wasn't aware of it himself.

"Until the war ends." Rashid repeated in a thoughtful tone. "I believe we will see the end of this war sooner than many think."

Milliardo lifted his head and looked to the older man curiously. "What makes you say that?"

"Up until this point, the war has consisted of inner power struggles and claiming territories. No one has yet to make a stand and draw the line for the final battle. I believe that is what it will take to place the conflict to an end."

The way Rashid was looking at him had Milliardo frowning suspiciously. "It sort of sounds like you're suggesting something.."

A slight smirk curled the tan lips. "Does it?" Rashid suddenly turned and began walking away. "Your wounded man is in stable condition, and has been asking for you. We will be taking him with us when we move camp and take him to the nearest medical facility for better treatment. He may feel better about the situation if you explain it to him."

Though the abrupt departure threw him off, the entire encounter left him with a great deal to think about. "Draw the line... Perhaps..." Ideas began spinning through his mind, but he silenced them for the moment.

After finishing the rest of his neglected meal, Milliardo stood and began heading for the medical tents. He had yet to see Kingston since their arrival, but he could only imagine that the man was getting the best possible care here.

On entering the medical tent, he quickly saw Kingston sitting upright in bed looking to be finished with his own breakfast. He approached the bed calmly and stopped beside the wounded soldier. "Kingston."

The soldier looked up quickly and offered a weak salute. "Commander Peacecraft. I'm glad to see you, sir. I was getting concerned."

A slight smirk was on Milliardo's face as he reached out to place a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Everything's fine, Kingston. I was told you'll be recovering nicely once you've gotten treatment at a fully equipped hospital."

"Ah... They said.. They would be taking me with them..." Kingston picked at the sheet he was covered with. "Sir... I'm.. Conflicted..."

Milliardo hummed in amusement and patted the man's shoulder. "You're not the only one, Kingston. But I assure you these people keep to their word. I'll be returning to the base in Morocco today, but unfortunately, you're still not well enough for the trip in the plane."

Kingston nodded and bit at his lower lip. "Sir.. What should I do once I'm well..?"

"I expect you to return to your family and take care of them." Milliardo smirked at the shocked look on the wounded soldier's pale face. "I'm being sincere. You've done enough. As soon as you're well, go home. You don't need to return to my ranks."

The soldier took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes sir. I think I will."

Milliardo nodded and pulled away. "You should consider yourself lucky. This is certainly the best treatment I've ever received while being a prisoner."

"Heh.. You're correct there, Sir. I don't think anyone else would believe it. Will you be leaving soon?"

"Yes, probably within the hour." Milliardo held his hand out. "Take care of yourself, Kingston."

The soldier smiled and shook the hand as firmly as he could manage. "Thank you, sir. You as well."

Milliardo released the man's hand and exitted the tent. He could heard a plane's engine close by. On seeing Auda approaching him, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Time to return to reality."

_fjfjfjfj_

As they stood there at the edge of the landing strip, Milliardo couldn't help but feel a hint of disappointment as he looked on at the reality that he would be returning to in the next few moments. But as he thought of returning to his troops, he glanced at the younger blond standing next to him. They hadn't said a word to one another the entire duration of the flight here

"You didn't have to come out here, you know..." he pointed out lightly, still curious as to why the young rebel insisted on walking with him as he returned to his command.

Quatre shrugged slightly. "I said I would personally escort you back to whatever destination you chose. I'm just fulfilling my end of our agreement." he explained calmly.

For some reason that answer made Milliardo frown, and he couldn't help but feel an even greater disappointment tugging at his heart. "I see.. Well I suppose you should better leave before my men arrive... They might not listen to my orders to hold off on pursuing you once I'm safe." He said as calmly as he could.

"Yeah..." At that moment Quatre then turned towards the man and held out his still bandaged hand. "See you out on the battle field, Mr. Peacecraft."

Milliardo looked at the hand for a moment before taking it in his and shaking it firmly. "Until then, Mr. Winner..." he grunted, aware that at that moment they were enemies once again.

For a moment they looked into one another's eyes and something passed between them, something neither could identify. To Milliardo it almost felt as if he was losing something as the slender hand slipped from his grasp. After they regarded each other for a moment longer, Quatre turned away and slowly began walking back towards the plane that would take him back to his maguanac family.

Milliardo watched for a moment, and part of him suddenly wanted to board that plane once more. To head back to the desert oasis where things were simple and he felt like a real person again. But he had his men and his goals that he had to return to. So with a heavy heart he turned as well to head for the base's main building where his men would be waiting for him to take up command once more.

After he walked a few feet, Milliardo suddenly heard a shout from behind him.

"Hey Milliardo!"

Startled, Milliardo turned to see the young rebel about thirty yards away grinning directly at him. "Yes.. Quatre?"

Grinning wider, Quatre pointed at the blond man as he spoke. "If you make it out of this war my offer still stands! Look me up if you're still interested!" he called out almost playfully.

A slight smirk forming on his own battered face, Milliardo responded. "Don't you mean if both of us make it out?" he inquired lightly.

Quatre merely gave the white fang leader a sly wink and waved. "I'll be waiting for you!" He called out one last time before turning on his heel and running the rest of the way towards his plane.

Milliardo stood still for a moment as he watched Quatre board the plane before it started its take off sequence. A few minutes later the tan air craft was lifting off the ground and heading back towards the vast desert. As he watched the plane become smaller as it headed towards the horizon, the smirk hadn't left Milliardo's face.

"I will certainly consider it... Quatre..."

_fjfjfjfj The End fjfjfjfj_

There you have it.

Took me forever, but I got it done.

I do have more for this story line. A prequel and a sequel, both unfinished.

I may post them someday, Feel free to tell me if you want more.

Until then

Later~


End file.
